


1000 Ways and I Can Name One

by SimplePassion



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Cabin 11 - Freeform, Connor centric, Cussing, Gen, Negligent parent, Some Fluff, Some angst, Travis centric, some of every thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplePassion/pseuds/SimplePassion
Summary: A thousand ways to tell the Stoll brothers apart and I can name you one. Travis and Connor centric oneshots featuring characters from PJO/HOO.





	1. Hermes - Beginning

**Hermes — Beginning**

Ages: Travis (1) + Connor (0)

* * *

Hermes can still remember the day he met  _her_.

A drunken night out with his two half-brothers. Strobe lights flickering over confetti littered asphalt. L.A. club music pounding through the still night. A slender body pressed against his back.

He remembered a voice, almost angel-like, saying hello. Molten caramel eyes that dance under the light. Laugh twinkling with genuine mirth. Hair, thin and hazelnut, threading through ringless fingers. A smile that draws him in and makes him yearn for more.

Ravenia Stoll was wild, free-spirited, and had stolen Hermes's heart when she stole his wallet that night.

There was the initial sadness at first, waking up to an empty bed. But Hermes suppose it's best. After all, what happened with May, with Luke, would never happen if he didn't love and cared so much.

Hermes gathered his belongings, checked his emails, groaned at the messages, and promptly took off, hand absent-mindedly searching for his wallet. Thoughts of last night have all but left his mind.

Nine months later, Travis Stoll was born in the bathtub of a cheap, rusty apartment of downtown San Francisco.

His screaming filled the night sky as he came into the world.

His mother picked up her bags and leave to fill her job as a con-man. In a flash of white light, Hermes appeared and picked him up from the cold tiles, wrapping him in a blanket and laying him on a couch. He wrote a mental note to himself to guide his son to Camp Half Blood when he's older. Then he disappeared to finish his deliveries and soon forgot about his son's existence.

It's not like he didn't care. He cares for all his children!

He was a busy god with numerous children all around the world. He can't honestly be expected to remember each and every child he ever had. It's preposterous and frankly impossible. Especially if the parent drops all contact with him and the child foregoes praying.

The only sure days he'll greet them are on their birthdays and their deathdays.

A year passed in relative peace. Hermes delivered his mail, worried about Luke, about May. He slept with women and men alike, drinking his troubles away at bars every other night.

When Hermes appeared into his newest born son's room, he was struck with deja vu. The room was strangely familiar, the darkness dashed only by the moonlight. Cooing brought Hermes's attention to the lump on the couch. A baby stared back with wide, caramel eyes and Hermes know that face. He had stared at the same face a year ago in the same dark room.

A tugging on his flying shoes made him look down. An infant, with a mop of curly brown hair, was grasping at the feathers of his shoe. Dread filled Hermes.

He bent to his knees, picking up the infant by the armpits. The baby giggled and clapped its chubby hands.

"Travis?"

"Dada!"

* * *

Connor Stoll, as much as Hermes hates to admit it, was a mistake, an accident, a blunder, a result of a drunken night out in the slums of San Francisco's night bars with his ractactious half-brothers. (Note to self: never go partying with Ares and Apollo ever again.)

There's a reason most gods and goddesses don't stay long-the fear of a second kid.

One demigod is enough to perk the ears of nearby monsters. Two in one centralized location is just a screaming radar. It brought more monsters than one mortal can handle and their mother definitely did not handle it.

She did not even acknowledge it.

Hermes can count on one hand the amount of times he has seen Ravenia in the apartment in the six years he took care of them. He sometimes wondered how Travis made it through his first year of life with such a negligent mother.

Taking care of the two infants-well, he didn't take care of them per say. Martha and George checked up on them daily, made sure they have food to eat, made sure they are warm, made sure they are entertained. But he himself definitely made sure they are clean. Hermes has given them the task of changing diapers before and the end result was not one Hermes would like to see again.

Anyway, taking care of the two infants helped reinforce his resolve to never have more than one children with the same woman.

As the father and  _a god,_  one should expect Hermes to be able to tell the Stoll brothers apart.

And he can, with 100% accuracy.

Back when they were toddlers.

Travis was the one who could walk. Connor was the one who crawls. Travis can talk and Connor babbles. Travis is bigger and Connor is smaller.

Then the years passed and the differences diminished. They both grew to the same height, both have the same voice with the same inflections, both have the same interests and hobbies, and both love not telling Hermes who is who.

George and Martha were no help whatsoever, hissing comments such as "Travis is the one who hums" or "Connor is the one who likes rock music" when both brothers were doing the same exact activity.

He thanked the fates the brothers didn't seem to mind him calling them by the wrong name. It was a blessing actually. They would giggle when he called them by the wrong name and with their high-pitched voice preeminent in all toddlers, they would say, "Nope, Daddy. Try again."

They smile at him, with all the love of a child. Pure and devoted. Innocent and free.

He thought of Luke and how he'll never smile like that at him.

It's unfair of him. It's cruel. It's giving false hope, that their father will be a constant in their life, but Hermes can't bear himself to leave. Not just yet. Not when one of his children despises him and two adore him.

He won't admit it, but it fills the gap of being a disappointment.

Then Luke ran away and Hermes dropped Travis and Connor off at an orphanage, the older 7 and the younger 6.

Hermes tells himself there was a multitude of reasons why he's leaving.

His mail was piling up and complaints were filing in.

Zeus was not pleased with his lack of complete effort in his job and demands him to work overtime.

The orphanage will do a better job as their caretaker. They are equipped with the tools of raising children rather than their father who's gone all day and half the night.

The brothers are old enough to watch each other's back when monsters do come.

They have celestial weapons.

They'll be fine.

He has done all he can and it's more than enough.

This is what he tells himself as he closes the door to the old, rickety children's home.

It's what he tells himself, again and again, repeating it like a mantra, when twin pairs of eyes stared at him from the windows, hurt and confused.

He burns the words into his mind as he slips his flying shoes on, as Connor's small voice asked from open windows, "When are you coming back?" as Travis says, "Dad? You are coming back, right?"

And as Hermes took off, looking back, he told himself that the sadness in their eyes was better than burning hatred. It's better to see sad eyes then hating eyes. That their eyes were better to see than Luke's.

But he's lying to himself again. They all hurt the same.


	2. Luke - Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for all chapters from now on: cussing, words you wouldn't want to use in front of your parents.
> 
> It wouldn't be too much but there might be a few here and there.

 

* * *

**Luke — Eyes**

Luke (14) Annabeth (7) Travis (7) Connor (6)

December

Luke knows better than anyone, knows more than anymore, the hardships and the unfairness of the streets. Society is against them, nature is out to kill them, and nobody can be trusted.

Luke understands that life so well. After all, that part of his life is still fresh in his mind. Just a few months ago, he was them. He was on the streets, scavenging however he can to stay alive.

That when he saw the lone boy performing mediocre magic tricks on New York City's busy streets, drawing a small crowd that cooed at his attempts, he stopped to stare for a moment. Another small kid weaves among the enthralled crowds, possibly to get a better view up close. Then the kid stopped behind the adults.

Luke's eyes narrow.

A hand pulls at his sleeve and he jumps. Luke looks down to see sharp, gray eyes staring up at him, the recipient with a small pout.

"Come on, Luke. We're going to be late," Annabeth says, drawing her scarf closer around her neck. She's shivering and Luke thoughtlessly pulls his beanie off and tuck it on Annabeth's head.

He nods and takes her hand, leading them towards the Empire State Building. But for whatever reason, he decides to look back one more time. The magician did a trick and the crowd awed in response. A total bum considering how awful the kid really is. Luke yawns and lets his eyes drift away but something caught his eye. The small kid who moved behind the adults stands on his tippy toes, obviously trying to see the show. But his hands weren't at his side. Instead, they're dipped into bags and in one swift motion, the kid pulled out wallets, receipts, accessories while zipping the bag shut in one go.

Luke stops.

"Actually, Annabeth, can you go on? I have something to do first."

"Chiron won't be happy," warned Annabeth.

"Cover for me, please?" Luke asked with a half smile, already backing towards the show, "Tell him I may find one."

He didn't wait for an answer and heads for the small crowd around the magic show.

The kid magician smiles a big, toothy smile at Luke and waves. Luke waves back but he stands towards the back, peering over shoulders. Up close, he could see how bad the magic tricks truly are. They were obviously fake and the tricks extremely noticeable.

But Luke also notice how young the kid is, probably no older than Annabeth.

It tugs at his heart a bit when he sees the kid flourishes a deck of cards with a wide, innocent smile. And in squeaky, adorable voice proclaims his next trick.

But his purpose here wasn't for the magician. No, it was for the pickpocketer. As inconspicuously as he could, Luke let his eyes wander the crowd, searching for the other kid. He jolts when he did find the kid. Except it's the opposite.

The kid found him first.

Glaring blue eyes stare back at him from the side and Luke forces himself to move his gaze away slowly, to make it seem like he was just surveying the area, before letting it come back to the awful magic trick going on. From the second glance their eyes met, Luke can tell the magician and the kid was related somehow. They share the same hair, the same eye color.

The prickly sensation of being watched did not fade over time and the urge to look back was becoming overwhelming. Eventually, Luke gave in, quickly, just a peek, and found the kid gone.

The feeling of being watched was still there though.

Luke stuffs his hands into his pocket, fisting his wallet to make sure it's still there.

It is.

The magician screams and Luke snap his eyes back front. The kid has a cell phone out, punching the keys vigorously. His face twists into despair and he practically wails for all of New York to hear, "Oh my god, I can't believe I forget to text my mom! I'm supposed to be home right now! Ahh, I need to go!"

The kid begins stuffing all his magic tricks into a plastic bag ignoring the crowds' concerns.

"Do you want a ride home? It's too cold out to be walking."

"Do you know where your mom is? Maybe she should come to you."

"Are you cold? You're shivering!"

The words fall on deaf ears as the boy takes off down a street, weaving through the opposing crowd of walkers with ease. Luke sighs and his eyes wander around, searching for the little pickpocketer. Of course, he wasn't around and Luke was about to call it quits when he notices the emptiness in his pockets.

The wallet was gone, taken right from his hands literally.

Luke did one more useless look around for the thief but, of course, they weren't here.

He stands among the concerned crowd who talked among themselves, still clueless to their missing belongings. He stares at where the kid fled for a moment. Then he takes out a drachma and heads to an alleyway, tossing it onto a puddle of melted ice. As soon as the face appears on the gray, dirtied slush, Luke says, "Hey, Chiron. I found two."

* * *

Luke shifts from foot to foot, pulling his jacket closer to him. Even with a parka, it still wasn't enough to shut out the cold. He waited for several minutes, checking his watch before stuffing his gloved hands back into his pockets.

Several more minutes pass with him waiting and Luke begins to have doubts. He mutters, "Did I put 35th street? Oh crap...what if put 34th?"

Dyslexia is a total pain in the butt sometimes and Luke was ready to take off when a tiny voice chirp above him.

"Wait! Er, um, Luke?"

Luke pauses, take several steps back, and of course, why didn't he think to check his surroundings first?

Perched on the fire escape are the two boys, the magician and the pickpocketer. With them side by side, staring down at him with identical, blue it was easy to see how alike they are. Too much alike that Luke couldn't tell who was the one to pickpocket him.

"Hi," Luke said with a wave, "You came."

The one on the right, sitting cross-legged on the railing, dug out a piece of paper from his pocket. The piece of paper Luke had hurriedly stuffed into his wallet prior to being stolen.

"Yeah, we did," the one with the paper said.

"'Come to 35th street. My name is Luke. I want to have a chat,'" the other kid stated, standing with his hands in his pockets, "We're here. So what do you want?"

Gods, even their voices are the same.

They stare down at him with distrusting eyes and Luke hates how he can relate to that. He takes another step back so he doesn't have to crank his head so high and attempts to smile. A harmless one, he hopes.

"Nothing much. I just want to talk. Are you twins?"

The one standing frowns. His eyes spark in a way that was familiar. The way they shine, it reminds him of Annabeth. They flicker around, darting left and right before settling on Luke again. "You went through all this trouble to say hi? I don't believe you. Are you working for the police?" His tone holds a note of hysteria and Luke quickly shakes his head, holding up his empty hands.

"No! No, not at all!" He buttons his jacket and lifts his collar, "See? I not wired or anything."

The boy did not calm down at all but the other boy, sitting, leaps to his feet and smiles at his brother.

"See, Connor! I told you he wasn't working for them. He's way too small and scrawny to be a cop."

The kid, Connor, stares at his brother for a long second, "Is your gut telling you that?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, so I was wrong. But just because it happens once, doesn't mean it'll—"

"You're wrong! I'm right! This is the best day of my life!"

Luke bites his tongue.

_Small? Scrawny?_

If anybody is scrawny here, it's the two twins. The measly jacket they each wear hang limply from their bodies. And Luke would bet his whole cash of drachma that they haven't had a decent meal in a while. Looking at their hollow cheeks, Luke would bet even more.

It hurts to think about it. Just a few short months ago, he was them.

The brothers banter back and forth, but Connor is keenly aware of Luke, gaze continuously flickering back and forth between Luke and brother.

"Hey, do you guys have a family?" Luke asks.

Connor opens his mouth but brother beats him to it, "Yeah, my brother." Almost unnoticeably the boy shifts slightly to the left, placing himself between Luke and Connor. He says with a crooked smile, "Sorry, Luke, but we don't have time to stand around and chit chat."

Connor butts his way to the front, "Yeah, tell us what you want now. Some of us have stuff to do."

Luke paused, searching for the right words. He trained for this. Chiron had trained him.

The ways to see if they're a demigod, ways to bring up Camp Half Blood, ways to persuade the kid and parent to let them attend for the summer.

But this is different. There's no Chiron by this side. There's no satyr to see if they are demigods. There's no parent.

He looks up at them.

At one boy with sharp, piercing eyes and the other with bright, clear ones.

Gods, they remind Luke of them so much.

Annabeth with her perceptiveness. Thalia with her up-frontness.

Luke bites his cheeks. Drawing in a deep breath and exhaling, he blinks back the tear-pricks sensation and smiles.

"Have you two heard of Camp Half Blood? It's a special place for people like you and me."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gods, thank you for all the support and feedback! They're so encouraging! I thought I was alone in my love for the Stoll brothers. I don't think I said this before but I am very open to constructive criticism. Doesn't mean I take it well but I figure with more exposure, it becomes easier. Or if you want to scream to me how much you love the Stoll brothers, I'm open to that too!


	3. Chiron - Ability

**Chiron — Ability**

Travis (7) - Connor (6)

December

["Hey, Chiron. I found two."]

Chiron sat waiting in the Empire State Building's marbled floors, watching people file in and out of its doors. He checked his watch, straightened his tie, and tapped his foot. He drummed his fingers on the arms of his wheelchair, shuffled the blanket laid over his 'feet', and check that his bow, disguised as a cane, is indeed slung securely on the side.

A minute passed.

And Chiron did this ritual again. Watch, tie, tap, drum, shuffle, check, again and again and again.

His ritual stopped when there was a whistle of air, a flutter of wings, and the messenger of the Gods stood before him, still in his work clothes: brown khakis over a crisp, white polo complete with a brown mailman bag. He landed harshly on the ground, a contradiction to his normally light-footed arrivals. His countenance was disheveled, eyes darting to the entrance then back to Chiron before shooting to the entrance again. George and Martha seem disturbed as well, unusually silent and tense.

Chiron moved to stand and greet the God properly, but Hermes waved him down. He pulled his work bag closer to him.

"Chiron."

"Lord Hermes."

Hermes twisted the straps of his bag. "You know my son went for a little detour earlier."

"Yes," Chiron says dryly, "He left Annabeth to come back herself."

But Hermes didn't seem to hear the scolding in Chiron's tone and continued, "And you know Luke found two demigods."

Chiron narrowed his eyes. Although some demigods are generally distinct with the appearance of their godly abilities, it is not unheard of to find out the children in question are mortals. Archery, thieving, engineering, they're all traits that can be learned and honed. Any quality may seem like an indication when one is influenced by pity. "Yes, I am willing to lessen the punishment if they truly are—"

"They are. They're mine," Hermes interrupted.

At the revelation, Chiron raised an eyebrow. "Are they twins? Or perhaps half-siblings who came together?"

Hermes coughed, ducking his face into the crook of his arm. "No, they're...they're...sorta like twins. Sorta."

Chiron waited for more, but when it became clear Hermes was done he continued, "Ah, I see. Is there anything else I should know?"

Twins possessed more danger than a regular demigod would, so it is imperative they come to camp as soon as possible for their safety as well as their mortal parent. One demigod attracts monster just fine by 12 and Chiron saw the outcomes with twins when they become of age.

Hermes pulled on his collar. "Their names are Travis and Connor. And they're...ah...they're homeless right now."

"Is their mother with them? She could spend a few months a camp until she gets her footing—"

"Travis and Connor are homeless," Hermes corrected himself. "Their mom is in Brazil doing a job."

Chiron's brows furrowed. "How awful. Did she just left?"

Hermes twisted the straps of his mailbag again, quickly glancing at the elevator. "She left them when Travis was 2. I took care of them for a couple years after.

George hissed from Hermes's pocket, "You mean we took care of him."

Martha hushed him.

The years correlated. For the past half-decade, Hermes was unusually slow with his deliveries. Chiron didn't mind, but Zeus was not pleased. He had chalked it up to the unfortunate incident with May and the Oracle, but he supposed — wait. The production went back to normal a couple months ago. Hermes couldn't have possibly...not when Camp Half Blood is…

Chiron resisted sighing, resisted letting any emotion befall on his face as he asked, "Why are they homeless if you were caring for them?"

Even with Chiron's neutral tone, Hermes's hackles rose, feathered sandals flapping faster in agitation. "I dropped them off at a local orphanage in San Francisco. Don't lecture me, Chiron. I know you're about to ask, 'why not Camp?' It slipped my mind at that moment. When I went back, they already ran away. They didn't pray, didn't really got into major trouble, how was I supposed to know where they are?"

Chiron held his composure as Hermes paced in front of him, listing excuses back and forth. The Gods aren't the best parents rather they can be some of the worst, but they do try (sometimes) and Chiron supposed that's all he can ask of them. "Well, I'm sure they'll be happy to see a familiar—"

Hermes blanched. "NO! I abandoned them, Chiron. Do you think they'll be happy to see me."

Then leave now if you'll scare them off. But Chiron has lived with an Olympian long enough to coat his language. "I suppose not. It's best if you leave soon. Luke will be here any moment now."

"Okay, okay. But first, Chiron, can you see if they hate me? You're good at this kind of stuff, right?" asked Hermes with pleading eyes.

Of course, it's this.

Although it's usually Aphrodite and Demeter with the occasional Apollo on the asking ends, two of the Gods more conscious of their child's perception of them. For Hermes, this is a first and Chiron doesn't hope this becomes a habit. The Olympian Gods do not like wrong interpretations Chiron has come to know. "I'm not entirely sure I can give an accurate—"

"Do me this one favor and I'll give you free shipping for a whole year. Anywhere in the world," pleaded Hermes.

Chiron knew it was futile. Whether through his godly abilities or natural charm, Hermes always get what he wants. It has been this way for millennia, but Chiron coughed and tried again. "Still, the question is very hard to bring up in normal conversation and will be very—"

"Free same day delivery," says the God of Bargains and Persuasion with a twinkle in his eyes.

And of course, he couldn't really refuse.

Chiron sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. If he did this and succeeded, he would save the camp thousands of drachmas. His campers would be allowed to send as many letters back home as they want rather than the two-letter allowance they're given. Chiron opened his eyes, admitting defeat. "I'll see what I can do."

Hermes flashed him a big smile. "Thanks, Mr. Brunner. I couldn't have found the tour guide section without your help."

Chiron stared blank faced at Hermes, wondering if he have a momentary lapse of madness when the Messenger God waved goodbye. Behind him stood Luke, eyeing the departing Hermes with a suspicious eye. "Hey, Chiron. Do people think you're an employee here? Then again you kinda do look like a tour guide person."

Drat, his talk with Hermes has left him unprepared. Chiron coughed, straightening as tall as he could, and said in his most stern voice, "Luke Castellan, are you aware you left Annabeth—"

"Luke said you're a pony, but you don't look like one," a little voice interrupted. A few feet from behind Luke's leg emerged a young boy with thinly worn clothes and a jacket barely hanging on by a thread. Chiron wasn't surprised why Luke felt compelled to help this boy. The boy stared at him with wide, adoring blue eyes. He tugged at Luke's hand roughly, pointing at Chiron's wheelchair. "He's the pony, right? Why isn't he half pony like you said? Is he hiding it in that chair?"

So Luke told them this much about him. At least he knows they are not frightened of his half form. Some children are. "Little one, I'm a half horse. A pony is much smaller. I don't mind being called a pony but my brethren—"

Again Chiron was interrupted. "Woah, is that a bow? Do you have arrows? Can I try shooting an arrow? Please~? I promise I won't hit anyone."

He chuckled at the boy's curiosity. It reminded him of Hermes when he was younger, when he was just a godling. Even though it has been millenniums ago, Hermes got into enough troubles for two, three gods—wait...there should be two. There should be two brothers.

Chiron turned his eyes to Luke. " You said there were two."

Luke chuckled without meeting his gaze. "Well…"

The little one piped up again, "Can you eat hay? Does it taste good?"

Chiron ignored the question, worry flaring up. "Did you lost the other one?"

Luke laughed nervously again, staring at the ceiling and scratching behind his head. "No...not exactly…"

At that point, the worry was now full-blown panic. "Did you come across a monster? Did he run away again? What happened, Luke?" To Chiron's chagrin, Luke remained passively neutral. He refused to look Chiron in the eye and made every effort to look everywhere but Chiron.

"Luke, look at me. This is urgent. We don't have time to be playing this game," Chiron pleaded.

Eventually Luke's eyes slid down from the ceiling. They lingered at Chiron for a moment before flickering slightly lower.

Then he burst out laughing.

Chiron was lost for a moment, fully set on believing Luke had befallen to the same unfortunate fate as his mother until he followed Luke's line of sight to the rear of his wheelchair and saw a boy crouching by his cane. For a second, Chiron stared at the boy because this boy there looks exactly the same as the boy by Luke.

[They're...sorta like twins. Sorta.]

Oh, Hermes...

The boy by his wheelchair stood up and scurried back to his brother's side, but not before Chiron saw the candies the child snagged from Chiron's pockets. He handed a piece to his brother and glared at the still chortling Luke. "Now we know he's completely useless as a partner."

Luke bent over in laughter, unable to speak. The one who snagged the candy stared at Luke for another moment before holding out a hand.

"Travis, gimme the whipped cream."

The first boy dug through a plastic bag and handed it to his brother whom promptly pulled Luke's pants open from the back, stuffed the can in, and squeezed. Luke screeched, pulling the can out, "Connor! What the heck, man? We're in public! How am I supposed to clean this up?"

"Not my problem," Connor said, tossing the canister back to Travis who put it back into the bag.

They both held wide, crooked grins. It's terrifying if Chiron might add.

Yes, these are definitely his children.

Their similarities are frightening. Both to each other and to their father.

Chiron shook his head and the shiver that went up to his back. He rolled his chair towards the elevator door, gesturing for them to follow. "Alright, the lecturing can wait. Luke, first, clean yourself up. As for you two, there must be a lot—"

"Wait."

Chiron stopped. He turned around and saw the two boys did not move from their spot, their previous smile gone and replaced by caution.

"You're like Dad, aren't you?" Connor declared.

"You're not like us," followed Travis.

From behind the duo, a man sitting on a leather chair ruffled his newspaper, catching Chiron's eyes. It lowered enough for their eyes to met and from that momentary glance, Chiron knew it was Hermes, begging with him to not say it.

Chiron looked back at the brothers, crafting his words carefully. "I do not know yet. I'm sure Luke had filled you in on the basics. I first need to confirm which parent is the Godly one."

Travis stared intently at him, brows furrowing. Then he turned to his brother. "He's lying, Connor."

Connor scowled, "You know then."

"I do not—"

But a look from Travis told him it was futile. He inherited that, the ability to detect any lie, any fib. The bargain was over before it really began.

"Who's our dad?" Travis asked.

"Which God is he?" questioned Connor.

"I…" Chiron was at a loss. It is against his policy to lie to any children, regardless of godly bloodline or lack thereof. Hermes shot him another pleading glare. George and Martha slithered out of his pocket to catch a glimpse of the twins. Hermes thrust them back into his pocket and silently pleaded with Chiron again.

'Please keep trying,' Hermes mouthed.

Chiron turned back to the two expecting children. "I...I don't know. I might have a clue if—"

Chiron froze as Connor wailed, loud, ugly. He screamed like his limbs were being severed, like his leg cramped, like his candy stolen. Passing mortals gave them a glance, but most looked away. Connor eventually stopped his piercing scream, staring at the bystanders wide-eyed. His brother fidgeted with the bag, eyes flitting nervously between Chiron and the crowd.

Chiron didn't miss the clench of fist and the slight step back Connor took. He glared accusingly at Chiron. "What did you do? Why aren't they looking this way?"

"It called the mist. It can make mortals see things a certain way."

"So you can stab us right now and they won't even bat an eye?" Connor said, a note of hysteria in his voice.

"Woah, now. How about we all just calm down? We're not here to hurt anybody." Luke tried to calm the situation, but Connor dug into his pocket, taking out a black handheld device.

It let out a buzz that silenced both Luke and Chiron.

Held tightly in both hands was a taser. Connor barked, "So if I were to shock both of you and run away, no one would stop me?"

This is getting out of hand. Chiron ordered, "Luke, go back to Mount Olympus."

Luke was about to protest but gave up when Chiron gave him the look. Sighing in resignation, he waddled over to the elevator.

"Dad," Connor tries again, punctuating with a buzz, "Who is he?"

"I can't tell you that. I made a promise to him."

"Promises were made to be broken though," Travis said.

"That's a very dangerous mindset. Promises hold a lot of power," warned Chiron.

"Just tell us his name! It's so simple!"

"I really can't—"

"Is it Apollo? Dionysus?"

"No."

"Zeus?"

"Absolutely not."

"What other gods are there? Hades? Poseidon? Hestia? Hermes? Jesus?"

"Hestia is a maiden goddess and Jesus is not part of our culture."

"I'm not playing around anymore." Connor started backing away with Travis following. "Either you tell us who our dad is or we leave."

Hermes abandoned his newspaper, letting it get swept up in the crowd. He still sat seated on the chair and looked back and forth between Chiron and his children. The action didn't catch the children's attention, but it did for Chiron. Hermes and Chiron eyes met. 'What do I do?' Hermes mouthed.

Chiron mouthed back, 'I'll handle this.' Then Chiron turned his eyes back to the duo. "I apologized then. Would you like any supplies before you depart?"

"What?" Connor's eyebrows raised.

"I can't break my promise. I can provide some supplies, but that's all I can do for you." Chiron could feel Hermes glaring a hole in his head, probably internally wishing to burn him to crisp at the spot.

But Connor and Travis didn't leave. They stayed at their spot, becoming more anxious by the minute. Connor groaned, "So you caught our bluff. We're not leaving, not when Luke makes Camp sound so nice. But."

"You're not moving from this spot until you tell us," Travis finished for his brother. He gave a toothy grin. "You seem important so you gotta be doing something important soon, right?"

Chiron grimaced. Right, he does. In a few hours, he needs to give a report to the Olympians.

Connor caught his grimace and smirked. "We're right. I'm going to make this easy for you then." The taser went back his pocket. Out of nowhere, Connor produced a handcuff and in a blink of an eye, Chiron could feel the clink, clink of the handcuff. Connor—no, wait. That's Travis. Connor still stood in front of him. Travis ran back to his brother's side.

Chiron looks down to see his hand locked to his wheelchair.

Connor swung a key around his finger and held up a hand, fingers spread. "You have five minutes to tell us. Otherwise, the key is going to go bye-bye."

Chiron chuckling slightly. Ahh, this reminds him when Hermes was younger and his curiosity unbounded. He recalled being in this similar situation when Chiron had told Hermes he did not have the time to detail his species' entire anatomy to him. The young god had not taken well to the refusal and tied Chiron up. Fortunately for him, Hermes did not know only special material can hold an immortal down. He had broken free in just a few seconds. Unfortunately for him, that sparked Hermes's curiosity more and eventually lead to him being successfully captured.

This human-made handcuff is nothing to him. He'll just—

"I forgot to tell you something."

Chiron looked up.

Connor tapped his chin thoughtfully, eyebrows creasing in exaggeration. "We found the handcuffs on a strange person when we were running. It said we smelled different from normal people, that we smelled like our dad. It said if we helped take off the handcuffs using this key, it'll tell us who our dad is."

"It didn't," Travis said with a blank face. "It tried to eat us."

"It didn't eat us," Connor continued. "When we fought back, it ran away. But it forgot to take the handcuff."

Chiron has a very bad feeling.

"You get why we're telling you, right?" Connor smiled.

Chiron looked down at the handcuff. At closer inspection, he could see ancient Greek inscription marked onto the side. He tugged experimentally. It didn't give.

Curse the Greek gods.

The strange person must have been a minor god that upset one of them and punished by being tied up. What luck he has, that out of all of the thousands of demigod children, it was these two that came upon it.

"Three minutes," Connor stated, three fingers up.

"Then we're tossing the key into the Hudson River," said Travis.

They grin at him, a devilish smile that borders on evil and mischievous.

If Chiron didn't have any duties to attend too, he would have been glad to play this game of theirs. Sadly, he does and there is simply no time left to dilly-dally. "Why are you so insistent on finding your father?"

Connor shrugged. "I don't really care and I don't really want to know, but Travis does. So here we are, doing this. I just want a bed to sleep."

"Don't be like that, Con-Man. Don't you wanna know why Daddy left?" Travis said, bumping his brother lightly on the shoulder with a smile.

Connor rolled his eyes. "He left because he thinks we're annoying. Just like Aunt Haggy and Aunt Filly did."

Travis pouted, cheeks blowing up with air. He stomped his foot. "You don't know that."

The brothers continued with their light banter as Chiron tried to pick the lock open with a hairpin. When he thought he had it, the runes glowed red and the nail melted into a puddle of metal and dye. Drat, Chiron thought, leaning his head back in his wheelchair.

"Times up," Connor said.

"So? What do you say?" Travis asked, eyes glittering.

They give a sweet smile as Chiron comes to the realization that yes, he indeed is trapped and that yes, he indeed is in dilemma.

Hermes flew next to him as Chiron walked down Mount Olympus's gold-paved paths, hand free from the wheelchair and legs free from confinement. Hermes was pouting, crossing his arms. "You ratted me out," Hermes accused.

"I apologize, Lord Hermes. I did not mean to break your trust," Chiron says sincerely.

Immediately Hermes flashed him a grin. "Ah, it's okay. Everything worked out fine, so I don't mind. I'll even give you that free shipping."

"You...will? Why?" Chiron questioned. He isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but with Hermes every rule needs to be reconsidered.

Hermes grinned mischievously at him and did an aerial flip. "I'll let you think about it."

"...Connor...inherited your bargaining skills."

"Yeah, he'll be a great lawyer one day."

"Travis has your lie identification."

"It's actually pretty strong, how much this kid trust his instinct."

"I...I feel like I'm gonna have my hands full for the next decade."

"Bingo!" Hermes snapped his fingers and winked at him, full of mirth. "Think of it as my future apology gift. They're a boatload of fun. I'm claiming them a week from now. What do you think I should get them as a gift? A magic bag that holds any sports equipment? Or a magic bag for junk food? No, they'll break into the camp store to get junk food if they want. So magic sports bag it is!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I made this, I told myself I'll update the 15th and the 30th of each month. It has been three months since my last update. I'm sure none of you want to hear my excuses (it was school) so I'll move on to the apology. I'm sorry for taking so long.
> 
> I don't really like this chapter due to how choppy it sounds, but something has to come out for Chiron and this was it.
> 
> Note: did not mean for this to be chronological. Starting next chapter it won't be.
> 
> But thank you for all the reviews and encouragement! I love each and every one of them! It isn't a lie when I say they really motivate me to write when I have time. Hopefully you'll see me 15 days from now if not at least a month. Bye!


	4. Annabeth - Alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis and Connor Stoll cannot be brothers. In no way can they be brothers.

**Annabeth — Alike**

Annabeth (7) - Travis (7) - Connor (6)

January

To say Annabeth is curious is an understatement.

To say Annabeth is pliable is also inapplicable.

And to say Annabeth is yielding is 100% inaccurate.

So when she meets Travis and Connor Stoll who were adamantly sure they are in fact  _not twins,_  but full on— same mother, same father—  _brothers_ , it caught her interest. Not because of its possibility, but because of its impossibility.

"Are you sure you're not twins?" Annabeth asks for the umpteen time. And for the umpteen time, Connor rolls his eyes, shoving cereal into his mouth, and Travis groans, letting his head fall smack on their dining table.

It was a week after New Years. Everybody already left for school since Winter Break is over. Cabin 11 table is wonderfully free. Free enough that Annabeth can sit cross leg on the bench and there's still room for others.

She doesn't want to admit she done anything but pester the brothers since their arrival, but she will. She did nothing but pester the brothers for the entire two weeks they been here and today is the 15th morning of pestering.

They sat together on one side of the table with Luke and Chris on the other. Castor and Pollux sat further away on their own table. They think they're being inconspicuous but Annabeth could see they're interested. Who isn't? It's been forever since Camp got someone new and as weird as Travis and Connor.

Travis, who sits closer to her, picks up his head and looks her in the eye. "Yeah, we're sure. I'm older and Connor is younger."

"Even with twins, someone has to be born first," she points out.

And Travis nods, concealing a yawn behind a hand. "But I'm a whole year older than Connor, so we can't be twins."

Annabeth presses, "But how do you  _know_? You can't really remember Connor being born when you were one year old."

Travis yawns again and turns around, talking with Connor in a weird tongue.

Chiron says it's a mixture of Chinese and Spanish.

Supposedly, some children of Hermes can pick up languages quickly. Chris thinks it's cool to have someone to speak Spanish with, no matter how broken it is. Annabeth thinks it's rude because now there's no way for her to understand what they're saying.

They talk freely, way to fast for Annabeth to pick up any words she might know. When they were done, Travis turns back to her, a bit more awake, a bit more alive.

"We just know," he said as if that means anything. Connor shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Annabeth grits her teeth.

She came to know something of Travis since their arrival. He doesn't like fighting, not verbally at least. He's quick to soothe the situation while Connor more or less does whatever Travis does or stays quiet.

Normally it wouldn't bother her if someone is like that. It's good in some cases. The problem is Travis doesn't seem to  _care_  they might be twins rather than brothers.  _He doesn't care_  about something so important and crucial to their identity, something as important as their godly parent, and that's unimaginable.

"Gods don't make a second child," Annabeth tries again, "The only way for someone to have a sibling is to be like Castor and Pollux, born as twins."

Travis sighs and leans his head on a hand. "We're special then, I guess."

He doesn't care.

Luke pipes up from the other side, flicking his spoon accidentally and spraying the table with oatmeal. "I don't know, guys. I met dozens of demigods while running and I never met siblings with the same godly parents."

"Okay, we're wrong. You're right. I'm a twin and Connor is my twin brother."

That's also another thing Annabeth comes to know about Travis. He's really easy to irritate.

Connor stops eating, spoon afloat above the bowl.

Annabeth still presses on, "Both of you are identical, right down to your looks and personality. If you're not twins, then I'm going to say you're clones."

Travis rolls his eyes. "Okay, we're clones."

Connor looks at his brother from the side and frowns.

"I was kidding about that."

"Okay, twins. It doesn't really matter because—" Travis starts to say, but there is a clang of metal against ceramic. Connor leans in towards the table till he could see Annabeth past his brother.

"Why do you keep asking us again and again? We already agree with you," he snaps, his first words in this conversation. He's irritated too, but that didn't deter Annabeth.

"I think you're twins," she states.

She expects Travis to agree with her and he did, but Connor didn't. He glares at her as he declares, "We're brothers."

"I don't think so."

"I think so."

"I don't."

"I do."

"No."

"Yes."

Travis pulls on his brother's sleeve, a forced laugh coming out. "Let's just all forget about this. Fighting isn't good."

Annabeth scowls as Connor pulls back, but he caught her scowls and gives her one in return.

Connor pulls his sleeve away and jumps over his brother's lap until he was the one sitting next to her. "You're wrong," he insists.

"Prove to me you're brothers."

Travis groans loudly when she said that. "Why do you have to say that?"

Annabeth casts a wary eye towards him, but it shot back to Connor who grins widely.

"Fine," he says, "When I prove you're wrong, I want to know your biggest fear."

"And if I'm right?" she countered.

"You're not," he says with a note of finality. It bugs her.

"But if I am?"

"You get the same deal." Then Connor is marching away towards their cabin.

Travis is quick to follow, abandoning his strawberries (Annabeth swears all he eats is strawberries…) and running after Connor.

Luke snickers and Annabeth turns her glare at him.

"You know," he says between slurps of orange juice, "You and Connor are so alike. It's scary."

"Us? How? I don't get so worked up," she snaps.

And Luke rolls his eyes. "Okay~, Annabeth. But you know what they say about self-perception, right? It's hard to see yourself if you never own a mirror."

Before Annabeth could give a retort, Connor came back. He climbed onto the bench and slams a stack of paper between him and her. "So I got pictures, papers, and something called birth tickets or whatever I snagged before we ran. What do you want to see first?"

Luke gives her a look and Annabeth blows a raspberry in return.

She points at the stack. "It's called a birth certificate. I want to see those first."

_After all, those can be faked, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always stuck out to me how Travis and Connor are really not twins, but brothers. Only Jason and Thalia, Nico and Bianca are like that. Man, that's so special.
> 
> I learned the secret to a fast update from me:
> 
> 1\. Keep it short. If you have more things to add make it into another chapter, you stupid, stupid girl.
> 
> 2\. Don't get caught up with imperfections, settle for what you have.
> 
> So with that, here ya go...only two days late (but hey better than 90 days late, am I right!).
> 
> Thank you to My_One_and_Only for commenting! I really appreciate it!


	5. Percy - Height

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth says one is more argumentative (they both are), Luke says one has a sharper glint in their eyes (what?), Chiron says one is a better at hustling (he doesn't know what that is), and Clarisse flat out don't care.
> 
>  
> 
> _Just call them whatever, Prissy._
> 
>  
> 
> All are unhelpful and highly impractical in Percy's opinion.

**Percy — Height**

Percy (12) - Travis (12) - Connor (11)

Early June

* * *

 

Having a cabin to himself is lonely.

Eating is even lonelier because then he can see how alone he is.

It sometimes makes him wish his cabin would magically fly into the ocean so he can stay at Hermes cabin again.

Then his table creaks and two people sit across from him.

Travis and Connor...from Hermes? Yeah, from Hermes.

They're identical, right down to the crooked grins they have.

"Hi, Percy," one said.

"Hey, Perce," said the other.

"Hi, Travis, Connor."

From the other side of the pavilion, he could see Annabeth giving him a look. She turns away when Percy stares back.

"We're gonna go try out the climbing wall. Wanna join?" Travis or Connor said and Percy is quick to finish his lunch.

* * *

"Do you feel sorry for them?" Annabeth asks him the next time they meet, those words being the first thing said when she stops him from entering his cabin and drags him to the bridge above the creek.

He can't think fast like her so he asks, "Feel sorry for who?"

"Travis and Connor."

"No. Why?"

And Annabeth turns away, hands clasped behind her back. "It's hard for them to make friends."

Really? He would have guessed the opposite. "Why?"

"They don't trust people easily." Annabeth scuffs the wood with her shoes. She turns back to face him.

"But they trust you."

And Percy felt there was an unspoken message then.

_Don't break their trust._

* * *

After a few days hanging out with the brothers, Percy comes to realize there's a problem.

No, it's not how whenever they seem to get into trouble with Clarisse, they expect him to protect them. It's not how they whine about their cabin being too full and how Percy is so lucky to have so much room without listening to him how it's not that great. It's not how they wake him up in the middle of the night to go stargazing when in reality they were testing a prank and needed a test dummy.

It's about how he can't tell them apart.

Whenever they're out together, he would always say "Travis and Connor."

Never just "Travis" or just "Connor."

And let him ask you: do you have any idea how difficult it is to address a group when you're trying to talk to an individual?

Well, neither does Percy until he has to.

Most times he's careful enough to say both names. Other times, he wasn't so careful.

Like now.

They're grinning at him. They usually smile like that when they're about to pull a prank or when someone is about to fall into their prank.

"What did you say, Percy?" one asks.

"What did you call me?"

They caught on to him. They caught on he doesn't really know which brother is which.

"Haha, what do you mean?"

But he still tries to fake his way out. Maybe he's wrong. Maybe they're still clueless.

"We mean, just a second ago, when I was talking about how much I love strawberries. You agreed, then turn to my brother and said a name. Which name did you say?"

_Father, please help me._

"Connor, of course," he says as confidently as he can.

Connor and Travis look at him for a long time.

Sweat trailed down Percy's head.

Then the brothers shrugged and went back to talking about their favorite food.

And Percy let out a silent sigh, willing his heart to be still.

He can't play this game anymore.

He  _needs_ to find something to tell them apart.

* * *

Annabeth says one is more argumentative (they both are), Luke says one has a sharper glint in their eyes (what?), Chiron says one is a better at hustling (he doesn't know what that is), and Clarisse flat out don't care.

_Just call them whatever, Prissy._

All are unhelpful and highly impractical in Percy's opinion.

What he has is the best there is.

See, Connor is shorter. Just a little bit shorter, but shorter nonetheless.

Although it's hard to tell when they're not back to back, it's nothing a little shove and nudge till they are back to back can't fix.

Sure, they might roll their eyes and Connor might poke fun and Travis can't stop laughing, but at least he knows who's who at all times.

You can fake stubbornness and powers, but you can't fake how tall you are.

"What are you going to do when we're not together for you to measure?" Connor asks one day with a sly grin, standing on his tippy toes to throw him off.

And Percy smiles in response, "That's never going to happen. You're always together, right?"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:
> 
> Clarisse was supposed to be next and Chris after but you know...I didn't like the end result. So they're in the bin of revision.
> 
> I'm kinda early, but it's because I'm watching a movie with my friends, The Death Cure, and will have to study for three exams next week plus a paper to write. Might as well post it now then forget and post it three months late.
> 
> I also have the next chapter done! Isn't it amazing how inspiration works?
> 
> Thanks for all your comments! I'm really glad people are still reading even though there's no plot.


	6. Percy - Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[What are you going to do when we're not together for you to measure?]_  
> 
> _[That's never going to happen. You're always together, right?]_  
> 
> They're not together anymore but it's easy to tell them apart.
> 
> Because one is here, in New Rome University, while the other is back at Camp Half-Blood.

**Percy — Alone**

Percy (18) - Travis (18)

[ _What are you going to do when we're not together for you to measure?]_

_[That's never going to happen. You're always together, right?]_

* * *

 

They're not together anymore but it's easy to tell them apart.

Because one is here, in New Rome University, while the other is back at Camp Half-Blood.

Percy watches him from the other table.

He's sitting around a group of Mercury kids who jests and laughs, but his head is low and the fork in his hand lazily pushes around vegetables.

The plate is full.

It's weird, kind of painful, to see the forever grinning, forever talking Travis like that — silent, brooding, a not-a-frown-but-not-a-smile on his face.

_Is this how they are alone?_

He couldn't really do nothing so he strides up to Travis and places his plate down across from him.

It reminds him of long ago when he was twelve and ate alone.

"Hey, Travis."

Immediately, Travis's bored face was replaced with a grin. "Percy!"

But it was forced. It didn't reach his eyes.

Still, he smiles back. "How you been?"

"Great, a lot better than last quarter. I'm actually on top of all my work this time. Can you believe it?"

"Really? Wow, I'm already falling behind," he says, the lightness in his tone indescribably fake that even Tyson can see through it. But Travis doesn't have the same problem.

"We should study together then, I know this great cafe in the plaza."

He talks like nothing is wrong and Percy can almost believe nothing is wrong.

"Hey, Travis?"

"Hmm?"

"I have been hearing that you don't really pull pranks anymore. What's up with that? Did Reyna got to you or something?" He tries to make it into a joke.

It isn't.

Because honestly? Travis? Pranks? They're synonymous, expected.

"Oh."

The grin is more strained now.

Travis fake ponders, looking off to the side to avoid staring at his face. "I don't know. This isn't Camp Half-Blood. I feel like if I mess around, I'll get into real trouble."

"I'll bail you out," Percy blurts before he could stop himself.

_Bail him out? He's not going to end up in jail for Tantalus's sake._

Travis laughs but he could definitely tell it's fake. The people around them turn to look and Percy could feel their judging gazes.

 _You failed as a friend_.

Travis stands, taking his plate with him. "I'll see you later, Percy. Let's get boba together sometime."

He gives a final smile and left, taking his still full plate and Percy's self-confidence with him.

A legacy of Mercury turns to him once he's out of ear range. "That's Travis Stoll?"

Percy nods grimly.

The kid grimaces. "I thought he would be more of a party person. I was super hyped, but he's the most studious of us all."

Another person nods in agreement. "Guess not all Greeks are laid back."

And further down the table, a son of Apollo, "Hey, this is the tenth time he didn't eat dinner and we all know he skips lunch. Does he eat a big breakfast or what?"

A daughter of Venus taps him on the shoulder. She gives him a sympathetic look and points down. "I know you're worried, but maybe bring a plate with food next time so it doesn't look so obvious."

Percy stands too and said goodbye. He weaves through the tables to where Reyna sat with her two loyal dogs. They perk their ears when he approaches.

"Reyna. Sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk with you. It's kinda private."

She nods and follows him out their dining hall and to the praetor room. "What is it?" she asks.

"It's about my friend, Travis."

And he took out a drachma and flip it into the fountain.

"I need to talk about him with you and Annabeth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm...I just really like Percy interacting with the Stolls. I don't know why. And I also love angst so there's that too. And while we're on that topic of what I love, HAVE YOU ALL READ: Olympian Legend by SinisterClown13? One, Travis shows up a lot and is freaking awesome. Two, the Avengers are there and also freaking awesome. Three, Percy is McFreaking awesome there.
> 
> If you all have any Travis or Connor fanfiction recommendations I would love to read them!
> 
> (Just gonna assume Travis went to the same university as Percy and Annabeth.)


	7. Hermes - Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two seconds after making that decision to be a better father, Hermes wants to take it back. Because he realizes something as he is walking, the brothers turning towards him as he draws closer.
> 
> He doesn't know who's who still.

**Hermes — Time**

Travis (16) - Connor (15)

Post Second Titan War

* * *

They're big now. Like his height big if he is in his mailman form.

Mortal years may be nothing to an immortal's, only a speck in their vast lifetime, but it has only been a few years and they grown feets. They shouldn't be this tall yet! Or has it been more than a few years?

They're talking about a fallen granite that used to be his aunt's statue. They both look uninjured, only sporting a few bruises — wait, one of them just sits down and they're holding their knee.

Is that a grimace?

Is he hurt?

No…

No, he was just making a face.

The other laughs, lightly punching the first's shoulder.

If they're laughing then everything should be fine, right?

Hermes hides silently behind a wall, watching and wondering if he should say something to them.

The last they interacted was when he claimed them.

The last they talked was when he left them at the orphanage.

Chiron  _says_  they harbor no ill feeling. But that was years ago. What about now? When they're much older and much more cognizant of the world?

He takes a hesitant step forward and another and another, but he stops short of clearing the pillar.

Now is not a good time. Not with Luke's recent passing.

They're about to hold a meeting to thank the demigods who fought for them. Olympus is in shambles and in need for major repairs. Thousands of spirits are sending him emails and letters to deliver, the pile growing exponentially by the second.

Whatever he was about to say can wait.

Hermes turns around and flutters away.

But it was like Luke's spirit still hung in the air. He could see his face twisted in anger and bitterness as if he's disappointed. Disappointed at how quickly he's falling back to his old ways of negligence and abandonment.

So he drops to his feet, turns around, and marches over to the brothers.

* * *

Two seconds after making that decision to be a better father, Hermes wants to take it back. Because he realizes something as he is walking, the brothers turning towards him as he draws closer.

_Abort. Abort. Abort._

He doesn't know who's who still.

 _Abort. Abort. Abort_. There's still time. He can pop out of existence and say it was just a phantom, like Helen's phantom Hera made. He could say he was being impersonated by another god or spirit. He could say—

"Dad?" The one standing said, a smile sprouting on his face.

The other didn't say anything, didn't do anything except just stare. Then he looks at his brother, sees the  _beaming, absolutely delighted_  smile and he plasters the same grin on his face.

It raises a few questions, but Hermes pushes it aside in his mind. He'll pick it apart later and instead raises a hand in greeting. "Hey, kiddos." He hopes they didn't notice the way his voice wavers in the end.

_Who's who, Who's who, Who's who?_

"I saw you two fighting. I'm so proud of you."

They both said thanks. Is it his imagination or is one slightly less enthusiastic?

Their names are on the tip of his tongue, ready to come out.

Travis and Connor Stoll.

Do they still not mind being called the wrong name? It has been years. Maybe they grew to hate it? Should he still try?

His pocket squirms, George slithering up from the thigh pocket of his mailman khakis.  _Connor likes to sit. Travis likes to stand._

 _There's no basis for that,_ and he nudges his friend back into his pocket.

"Are you both okay?"

They both nod, one is slightly delayed.

"I'm glad. How's camp been?"

Great, they said together again. Okay, one is definitely less enthusiastic than the other.

Martha slithers out and brushes against his hand.  _Travis looks more like you. Connor looks more like his mother._

 _They share the same face,_ and Hermes nudges her back too.

"Are you both eating alright?"

"Yeah." "Yeah!"

 _Travis likes to smile,_  George comments.

"Are you both getting along?"

"No, I hate my brother. That's why I decided to share everything I have with him." "Yes, but I wish he would stop being so sarcastic."

 _Connor likes to snark,_ Martha inputs.

"How is Chiron?"

"Chiron is fine." "Chiron is peachy!"

_Travis likes you more. Connor likes you less._

"Who taught you to fight like that?" At that, they froze. The one sitting drops his grin, replaced with something like contempt. But only for a second. Then his face became neutral. The one standing still smiles, but it's strained and uncomfortable.

They didn't need to tell him because their reactions were enough but they did anyway.

"Luke did."

And Hermes draws up a blank for what to say next.

The silence between them didn't last long. The one sitting points behind him. "I think Athena wants you."

Hermes turns around to indeed see Athena waiting for him.

Saved.

Oh, thank the fates was he saved.

He said his goodbyes quickly, flittering to Athena's side. They walk down the ruined hall to their throne room.

His half-sister gives him a pitying look, mouth opening to say something Hermes definitely knows is wise.

So Hermes walks faster.

God of Communication his ass.

He rather be God of How to be a Good Father.

* * *

He doesn't call it eavesdropping. They weren't trying to hide it at all. If they were, he wouldn't have heard. But they didn't and with his Godly ears, he hears one brother sighs in relief. The other humming.

"That was fun! I hope he comes by to talk with us more."

"I don't. That was the most awkward five minute of my life."

"Come on, Con-Man. He's trying. If he's trying with us then he's trying with the others too. Don't discourage him."

"He should stop. It's too late for us. We're too old to think of him as anything but our absentee dad."

"Shhh, don't be so loud."

"He isn't going to zap us. If he does then all of his kids will fear him. He'll lose their respect."

"Why do you always have to be abrasive? Sometimes it's good to lie."

"Lie? To the God of Liars? I'm sure he already knows what a faker I am."

"Can you please stop? I don't want to lose my only sibling. Do it at camp where we can count on Chiron to keep us safe. Oh, dude, I'm actually kind of hungry. Do you think Olympus have any stores we can raid?"

"' _Can you please stop? I don't want to lose my only sibling_.' Do you really think the minor gods won't smite us for stealing?"

"Stop mocking me. Are you in or out?"

"Definitely in. I want more candy. Come on, let's hurry and get it before Katie ruins all the fun!"

Then Hermes shuts them out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Deonyisucc who wanted Hermes. Do you all know my favorite Greek god is Hermes? And do you all know my favorite ship for Hermes is Apollomes? And do you all know the amazing author that made me convert to Apollomes? pssst, it's Cobaltdreams! Go read the fics! They're sooo good. I have a tentative order for the posting: Will, Clarisse, Chris, Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth, and then Katie.


	8. Will - Injury Prone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Did I warn for this? Well, there are some cuss words. I'm sure you all are used to cuss words in fanfiction and real life but you never know. If there's anything you ever want me to tag for that I missed, please don't be afraid to tell me!

#  **Will — Injury Prone**

Will (12) - Travis (14) - Connor (13)

Sometime during Book 3: The Titan’s Curse

* * *

 

The Stoll brothers aren’t bad people.

They really aren’t.

The time he spent in the Hermes cabin had been fun and enjoyable. (If you exclude the hours he spent watching his back for pranks.)

Travis and Connor are friendly for the average demigod (up to a certain degree) and lenient compared to the other counselors (again up to a certain degree). They work hard to make sure their cabin actually seems like a home. It feels like you been there since forever and known everyone since forever.

Will had actually been a bit sad when he got claimed.

The Stoll Brothers aren’t bad people.

They really aren’t.

But they’re scarily vengeful.

Phoebe’s burns from that centaurian blood coated shirt are proof of that.

She’s seething in his infirmary right now as he treats her hives.

There are some very detailed threats flying from her mouth that is making Will very, very fearful for the brothers’ lives. He nods along quietly but from the back of his hand, he tosses two drachmas into his fountain and whispers “to Connor and Travis” as he passes by to get some bandages.

He looks back to make sure that the message is getting through — it is, he sees their twin faces — and hopes they’re taking precautions in case Phoebe follows through with her threats.

She did a day later.

He heard the stories — ‘ _did you hear? That hunter got into a fight with one of the Stolls.’ ‘Who?’ ‘It doesn’t matter. The other one tried to break up the fight and got an arrow in the thigh.’ ‘Oh dude. Which brother was it?’_ — long before he sees him in the infirmary.

He should have expected it.

It’s always Travis who gets hurt in their wacky shenanigans.

Travis is grimacing and whimpering quietly to himself, but wipes it all away when Will enters the empty infirmary. He laid the supplies — a foot stack of gauze, wrapping tape, a bag of ambrosia — down on the table beside the bed.

Will looks at the wound. A thick arrow is lodged four inches deep in the upper thigh, just medial of the femur. A camp shirt is wrapped around the wound and kept in place with a well-binded gauze tape.

It’s Lee’s handiwork. Lee’s the only one who can tie something so well.

Will set about unwrapping the bindings. He says dully, “I warned you.”

Travis grins—but it's lace with pain rather than his usual light-heartedness—and tries to slug him on the arm playfully. Tries. Fails halfway because it jostles his leg. So Travis just shrugs and the pained grin tries to play itself off as nonchalant.

“And I listened like a good camper.”

At least Travis still has the mind to joke around, Will noted. That's a good sign.

Will throws the ruined shirt and tape in their biohazard bin and lines up his supplies beside the leg.

“Then what happened?” he asks as he slips on his gloves, snapping it over his wrist.

Travis chuckles, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. “Phoebe made a comment about our cabin. I can’t blame her. You lived there so you know what a mess it is. Connor didn’t like that and they got into a fight. No weapons or anything. It was all verbal. I could barely understand half of what Bees was saying.”

Bees...Phoebe...He wonders if Phoebe will appreciate that nickname.

Will snaps the ambrosia in thirds and press two pieces into Travis’s hand. “Don’t eat it yet. What happened after?”

“I…” Travis is eyeing the ambrosia, throat gulping. The pain must be imaginable and Will readies himself in case he does need to rip the ambrosia from his hands. “I tried to stop their fight, but I guess I forgot the memo where you should never approach a hunter from behind. Those hunting instincts, man. Someone needs to train it out of them if they ever want to make friends. She shot me out of surprise and luckily Lee was nearby to take care of me.”

“You’re lying.”

Travis laughs. Years of Will treating his injuries and demanding a reason why he’s hurt lead them to this point. It sort of became a tradition.

“Yeah. I guess nothing can be hidden from you, huh?”

“Tell me the truth.”

“But you’ll rat me out to Chiron.”

Will’s about to argue. He knows Travis will give after a few more pushing, but the way Travis winces and whimpers hold him back.

Later he’ll ask. When he isn’t in pain, then he’ll start the interrogation.

“Does the arrow have barbs?”

Travis looks clueless.

“Does the arrow have pointy things sticking out on the side or was is straight?”

“I don’t remember. I wasn’t looking at the tip. Why? Does it matter?”

“No, no. It doesn’t matter.” And Will feels that twinge of guilt from lying. _It’ll just be more painful if it has barbs. It’ll tear everything on its way out once I pull._

Will holds the gauze in his left hand. He looks at Travis, sympathetically. “I’m gonna have to pull the arrow out so you can eat the ambrosia. It’s going to hurt.”

Travis nods. His face was already pale so it couldn't become any paler, but Will could feel the breathing comes heavier.

Travis' right hand grips the bed’s metal railing tightly, while his left bunches his shirt together.

Will grips the body of the arrow with his right hand and readies the gauze.

“One, two, three.” Travis flinch, but Will continued on.

“Four, five, six.” Will doesn’t even have to look to know Travis is staring at him. He can already hear his whining. ' _Why are you like this, Will?'_ he'll probably say.

“Seven, eight, nine.” Travis is still tense.

“Ten, eleven, twelve.” He’s still taut.

“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.”

“Will, if you don’t hurry and get a move on, I’m going to—”

The muscles become lax and Will pulls it out, slapping the gauze over the gushing wound.

Travis hisses behind closed teeth. He rocks back, knee nearly colliding with Will’s temple as Will fights to keep his hand on the wound.

“Eat the ambrosia,” Will orders, grunting as he pushes Travis down, his writhing almost uncontainable.

The ambrosia flies into Travis’s mouth, so fast Will thought he would eat the hand too.

The gauze soaks with blood and Will press a new gauze on top of the old.

“It hurts,” he whimpers with clenched eyes.

Tears are streaming down his cheeks as he swallows the crumbs, a low whine in the back of his throat.

“I know, I know,” Will soothes, throat clenching as he could only watch. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything for the pain. It’ll go away soon, Travis. Just hold on for a little bit longer.”

Eventually, the wound closes with the divine food. When Will no longer have to slap on new gauze, he leans up on the pressure, just barely. “Does it still hurt?” he asks.

Travis looks a bit better. There's color returning to his cheeks as he squints and rocks his leg side to side. Travis shakes his head.

And Will ease up on his death hold.

“Try moving your leg to see if anything is wrong,” Will says, repeating the camp’s procedure for embedment injuries. The ambrosia should heal any muscle damage that occurs and if not, it's nothing a little more ambrosia can't fix.

It’s a rather sucky procedure in Will's opinion. He wishes Chiron can get the infirmary some anesthetic agent.

He hates having to hear his friends in pain.

Maybe there's a hymn he can learn.

When Travis shakes his head again, Will removes the blood-soaked gauze, throwing it in the biohazard. The wound site is still a mess of blood and bits of tissue which Will is quick to clean up. He doesn’t remember who, but one of the brothers is queasy with blood.

He rather not have the recently healed camper become violently sick in his infirmary. Smells linger that not even Febreze is capable of covering up.

Travis groans, leaning back on the bed’s pillow. “This is the worse day of my life. I hate being shot at.”

“I think nobody likes being shot at,” Will quips back with a smile, half at Travis’s words and half at the satisfaction the wound is indeed closed, as he finishes wiping. He checks Travis’s forehead, frowning slightly at the heated skin. Too much ambrosia leads to fever, but the amount he gives him should be his baseline. Did he have some ambrosia earlier today?

Travis cracks open an eye. “Really? I would never have guessed.”

Before Will could retort, the door to the infirmary creaks and Connor peeks behind the partially open door. He’s shaking, eyes teary, and definitely not looking fine.

_Oh, gods, did Phoebe do something to him too?_

But Connor only asks, “Is he okay now?”

“Yeah, but I was going to get Chiron to make su—”

Without a glance at Will, Connor pushes the door open all the way, marches in, grabs the neighboring pillow, and tries to kill his brother.

The way he whacks Travis with that pillow seems _absolutely_ deadly.

Will definitely does not want to get in between that.

“You.” Whack. “Fucking.” Whack. “Idiot.” Whack. “I didn’t ask for your help.” Whack. “Why do you butt in everything?” Whack. “I’m going to kill you.” Whack. “And Will is going to relieve you.” Whack. “So I can kill you again.” Whack. Whack. Whack.

“Will, save me!” Travis wails, arms up in defense from the raining blows.

And Will did try.

“Ahh, C-Connor? As the camp’s medic, I don’t advise hitting a recently treated patient with…”

But then Connor turns his raging eyes to him and Will stops trying. He packs his supplies up, waving goodbye on his way out.

“I'll come back later with Chiron, Travis.”

“Wait, Will, no. No! Will, come back, please. You can’t leave me. Help me! What kind of friend are you! Will, you donkey hole, come back here!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I'm not a doctor or a nurse as you can tell by my butchered first aid help. All I know is that if you're ever impaled by an object, it needs to be wrapped so it can't move around as you go to the hospital. I know pulling the object out is a big no-no because of the quick blood loss.
> 
> Do you think camp have any sort of general anesthetics? And do you think they’ll give it to the kids to use if they do happen to be injured, even though there isn’t a trained anesthetist there? Or do you think with ambrosia and nectar all healing nature, the campers just endure the pain?
> 
> ON A SIDE NOTE: I FOUND MY NEW FAVORITE ANIME!! HOUSEKI NO KUNI. It’s so beautiful. All the gems are beautiful. I would die for them. I would sell my soul for them. They’re absolutely adorable. I need to protect them all. (No spoilers!! I only watched the anime. But depending on how obsessed I am I may seek out the manga. What am I saying, I will seek out the manga).


	9. Clarisse - Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stoll brothers are cowards.
> 
> C-O-W-A-R-D-S.
> 
> Fucking cowards, both of them.
> 
> This isn't based on unfounded reasons. Hell to the no. In the 8 years since she knew the pranksters, the 3 they been fellow counselors, and the 129 times her cabin spars with theirs not once did she face them in training.
> 
> Not freaking once.
> 
> They don't think she notices, but she does.
> 
> But this day, this day she caught them right smack in the middle of their lie.

**Clarisse — Fight**

Clarisse (17) - Travis (17) - Connor (16)

June

—

The Stoll brothers are cowards.

C-O-W-A-R-D-S.

Fucking cowards, both of them.

This isn't based on unfounded reasons. Hell to the no. In the 8 years since she knew the pranksters, the 3 they been fellow counselors, and the 129 times her cabin spars with theirs not once did she face them in training.

Not freaking once.

They don't think she notices, but she does.

The sick leave notice? The passing of responsibility to Chris for the day? The 'homesick/dying/new' camper who 'desperately' in need of their care?

They couldn't have been more obvious.

Well, this day she caught them, caught their lie smack in the middle. Their horrified faces and pitched screaming as she drags them with her by the collar is a major boost to her day.

Eyes from both her and their cabin are on them when they enter the arena. Chris opens his mouth, but thought better and closes it.

Good.

Nothing is going to save these skipping bastards from her now.

Clarisse let her hold on their shirt go, them falling to the ground in surprise. She steps into the ring, a circle of rocks placed strategically—code for thrown wherever—to ensure safety.

She addresses the one who stands first. "Come on, Connor. Pick up the sword. You're the test dummy of the day."

"I'm Travis."

"Whatever."

Travis didn't follow, instead staying at the edge. His brother whispers into his ears with a cupped hand.

Clarisse scowls, "You're taking too long. We don't have all day."

They didn't acknowledge her which ticks her off immensely.

"Hey, you're done talking. Get in here."

Travis nods one last time to his brother. He steps into the ring with Connor shouting after him, "You got this, Travis! We believe in you! Good luck!" Then in the same breath, turns to one of his half-sister, "You're losing a counselor today."

They all snicker, Clarisse including, but she's not underestimating him. No. There's a reason why he's standing here before her, perfectly intact, after surviving two wars.

"Finally you're here, Grandpa," she snorted at him. She addresses her bystanders, a mixture of Ares and Hermes campers, "Watch and learn. I'm going to show you how to disarm your opponent. Your fraidy-cat counselor is going to turn into an even more of a fraidy cat."

Travis rolls his eyes. "Oh wow, Clarisse, you have such a way with words."

She strikes first, raising her sword up and bringing it down with a quick swipe. Travis steps back sideways rather than bring his sword up. Smart. He's not known for his strength. If he stayed, Clarisse is sure he couldn't block it.

She lunges again and Travis retreats. Lunges, retreats. Lunges, retreats. Lunges, retreat. Lunges, ret— no, he counters. Her sword clashes against his, metal scraping against metal. Travis grunts and stumbles back, feet planting in time to regain balance.

Clarisse smirks and leans forward. Travis pushes back with barely enough force. They continue like this for awhile, Clarisse slowly applying more and more pressure. He's having trouble pushing back. She could see the strain in his face. It breaks with Travis sidestepping suddenly, not that Clarisse wasn't ready for that.

She regains her balance and turns around to face — he's gone.

No, he's not. Clarisse looks over her shoulder and at the sword coming to her.

Travis is fast.

She'll give him that.

But he lacks — and she brought her sword up — the strength to actually do any damage.

She blocks his blow, pushing the blade down so the hilt is exposed. With deft hands, she grabs the sword's handle and tilts it further until Travis' hold is weak. Then she yanks it out of his grasp.

Giving the sword a twirl in her hand, she delights in Travis's shocked face. There's something off though… it doesn't seem genuine, but she shrugs it off. She won. That's all that really matters.

"Everybody got that? Push your opponent's sword to the side and grab the hilt."

Then she turns to Connor and threw his brother's sword before his feet. "Your turn."

Connor takes a step back, chuckling with apprehension. "D-Do I have too?" he stammers, "I mean, we need time to train the others the move, right?"

Clarisse narrows her eyes. There's something about his tone that's not sincere. She doesn't know what but it sounds fake. Oh well, who cares? She's pummelling both of them tonight for avoiding her all these years.

"Don't you two do everything together?" she snaps, "Are you really gonna let your brother be embarrassed by himself? I didn't know you were that type of person."

Connor's eye twitches minisculely, barely noticeable.

She doesn't know them enough to tell them apart, but she definitely knows how to push their buttons. Insult one and the other will get angry.

This wasn't the case, she guesses, because Connor continues to whine, "Come on, Clarisse. We all know you are the strongest."

"Pick it up."

"It has a name, you know."

Clarisse rolls her eyes. "Who cares? Pick it up."

Connor whines one last time but bends down to pick up.

Travis yawns, stretching his hands over his head. He didn't seem bothered by the loss. Heh, this is why he'll never improve as a fighter. The embarrassment of a loss is what fuels Clarisse to improve, to be stronger so she'll never have to lose.

"I did enough?" Travis says, nudging Connor in the shoulder on his way out of the ring.

Connor raises his head and smiles maliciously. "Yeah, you did."

Clarisse doesn't care what that grin means.

Connor steps into the ring and clamps down with both hands on the handle, pointing it at her. Clarisse did the same.

"Same rules."

And she lunges, Connor falling back.

Clarisse learns quickly Connor isn't as fast as Travis. Not even a little bit. He barely dodges her attacks. His guards are around one and a half second slower than his Travis'. His strikes two seconds later than Travis'.

The only difference is that Connor has a cooler head. Travis jumps at the first opening he sees. Connor doesn't. Not that it means much. When he does attack, it's always foiled.

Now she knows why he's so adamant to not fight.

What a coward.

Connor tries to push her sword to the side but it is so easy for her to push back that it's not even funny. She takes a step forward and Connor takes five steps back, quivering in his shoes.

This is pathetic. Clarisse wishes Connor puts up more of a fight.

Travis's speed is what makes him formidable. Without it, he would be just the average joe.

Connor's not fast like his brother. He's not particularly skilled and quick-minded like Percy, nor is he fast and intimidating like Nico.

No, he fights more like —  _piece of shit —_  more like Annabeth. Sharp-minded, calculating, observing, efficient.

Clarisse notices too late

A foot is sweeping across hers.

She's stumbling back and Connor rips the sword out her hands.

Clarisse falls on her butt, grunting at the impact.

Connor smirks down at her and waves her sword tauntingly.

"People always underestimates the little brother," he says, "I thought you knew better. Obviously not.

Travis snickers, high-fiving Connor as he walks back to him.

"Okay, break up into pairs!"

"We'll go around and help you each individually."

* * *

Later that night, she marches into Hermes' cabin, bang open the door, and stomps all the way to their bed.

Travis peers over his magazine with no care but tumbles off his bed when he sees Clarisse. That didn't deter her in the slightest as she stomps pass the bed and fists Travis' shirt with her hand, lifting his face to hers.

"You threw our match on purpose so your shit brother could watch, you little shit."

"No cussing in our cabin," Connor says with a smirk, peeking down from the top bunk.

Clarisse glowers at him and looks down to see the same disgusting smile on Travis's face.

"We do everything together. I thought you knew that?" Travis taunts.

Her fist tightens and she brought Travis closer to her. The smirk drops of his face— _good_ — and he laughs nervously. "Er, sorry?"

She lets his shirt go and watch him fall to the ground, his elbow landing hard on the floor. Connor scrambles down from the top, giving Clarisse his own scowl.

"You okay, Travis?" And Travis nods, blowing a raspberry at her.

"Again. My cabin and yours. Tomorrow. I already arranged it."

And she marches out, ignoring the groans of Cabin 11's residents.

_Why did you guys have to win? You should have both lost. Now we're all gonna suffer again._

She's going to get her revenge. No one makes a fool out of her and gets away with it.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I was supposed to work on this over Spring Break.
> 
> Did. Not. Work. On. It. At. All. I blame my brothers. I did nothing but watch anime.
> 
> How do you write action scenes? I'm always scared to write for anime that's action-heavy like Naruto or Bleach.


	10. Chris - Prank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I have posted this when it was actually April Fools Day? Yes...Yes I should have.

 

**Chris — Prank**

Chris (9) - Travis (8) - Connor (7)

— April 1st—

Chris waits patiently inside Cabin 11, peeking out the window occasionally to scan for his two new half-brothers.

There's an itching in the back of his mind. He's forgetting something important but he can't for the life of him remember. Oh well. All that matters right now is pulling this off right.

He drums his fingers on the floor, bounces his legs, tugs on the rope lightly, watches that bug crawl along the floor, listens to twin laughs—

They're coming! He hears them talking.

Chris pushes himself to his feet, scurries to the wall beside the door, readies his hand, and listens closely for that door to open so he can pull the rope.

Their porch groans. The door rattles. And Chris yanks on the —

"Wait."

The door didn't open and Chris barely stops just in time.

_What?_

"I think Chris is in the horse stables," one of the brothers said.

Chris' brows bunch.  _Who told them that?_

"Really?"

"Yeah, I remember Luke saying our cabin has cleaning duty today."

"Okay, let's go."

And the door is closing.

_They're leaving,_  Chris panics.

What should he do? He can't afford to stay here for however long he needs to stay. Not moving for so long is already starting to get to him. What are the chances the next visitor will be them? What happens if it's Annabeth? She'll spoil it for them for sure. What should he do?

There's no choice. With a heavy heart, he opens his mouth. "I'm right here."

They didn't say anything. Did they already leave?

"Come out then."

"We have Spanish class, remember? Annabeth is getting impatient."

Chris lightly slams his head into the wall.  _That's what I was forgetting._

"I can't," he lied, "I don't feel good. I think I'm getting sick. Can you get me my water bottle?"

For the longest time, Chris is left without an answer. The porch creaks and groans heavily and Chris went to check outside to see if they're still there when a voice, so quiet he thought he imagined it, utters, "You're lying to us."

_Crap._ Chris drops his lie. "I want to show you two something."

Again there is that moment of silence. Chris peeks over in the window to see them arguing and waving their hand at the door. He tries to read their lips, but he thinks they're speaking in Chinese.

Chris narrows his eyes.  _What's going on?_

But the brothers turn back to face the door and Chris ducks his head away.

"Okay, fine. We'll see what you want."

Chris swears he hears ' _if it hurts him, I'll kill you'_  but he shakes it off as the wind.

The door pushes open and Chris yanks the rope tied to the bucket overhead, watching with glee as it tips over and dumps flowers over them.

They stare unimpressed at him.

"What is this?"

Chris deflates at their lack of enthusiasm. Why does this always happen? Why does nobody appreciate or even acknowledge his pranks? They're fun, aren't they?

"It's a prank."

One of them brushes flowers off the other's head. "A prank is covering someone with flowers?"

Chris shakes his head. "No, a prank is a trick you play on another person for a laugh. It shouldn't hurt them though. That's not a prank."

Chris hesitates. Annabeth's pranks hurt. And so do Luke's. And Castor and Pollux are relentless. Only Lee's pranks don't hurt, but his, by far, are the scariest.

"Sometimes they hurt," he rephrased. Chris didn't miss how one of them tensed. "Have Lee got you yet?"

"Why would he do that?" one asked, unease clear in his voice.

"Today's April's Fools Day. It's our tradition to prank each other at least once, Conn...uh...Trav—"

"I'm Connor," the uneasy one said, pointing to his brother. "That's Travis."

Travis is staring at him wide-eyed, eyes twinkling. "So we get to mess with people and we won't get into trouble?"

"What is Lee going to do?" Connor asks, tugging at his sleeve with bunched brows. "Will it hurt?"

Their door slams open and Luke marches in, very, very smelly and very, very dirty. He stands before them with his hands on his hips and… is… is that poop on his face?

"Chris, what the heck, man! I was waiting for them in the stables for so long! I had to stay in there with the pegasi and their disgusting remains for hours."

Luke snags the brothers by the arms, pulling them out the door. "You two, come with me. I wasted too much time and my health to let this go to waste."

Connor latches onto his hands and, with pleading eyes, asks him to save them. Travis follows Luke with no resistant but his hands snag an air horn off the floor.

Chris shakes Connor's hold on him, ignoring his accusatory glare.

This is their tradition, one that practically honors their dad. He can't butt in whatever Luke is planning.

* * *

Travis turned the prank on Luke.

Annabeth told him first on her way back from the stables and he sees that for himself when Luke is stomping pass the cabins to the washroom.

Chris watches Luke grumbles and whines as he tosses his poop-covered clothes into the washer. By the entrance, he sees the brothers snickering.

One lifts an air horn and honks it.

Luke jumps and glares at the departing, laughing duo. He thrusts the rest of his clothes into the washer and jabs the wash button. "I'm going to get them back," he hisses through gritted teeth.

Chris snickers. "You're the worst at pranking though."

And Luke turns his glower to him, shoving a finger in his face. "I don't want to hear that from the most boringest pranker."

Chris shrugs and looks at the washer. "At least I can pull it off. You forgot the detergent by the way."

His older brother groans and pries the door open, Chris snickering at his counselor's cursing.

Luke gets careless when he's flustered.

* * *

Lee loves jumpscares. Lee also loves his trumpet.

So Chris wasn't really surprised when his afternoon nap was broken by a trumpet solo of Robert W. Smith's Locomotive Chase, twin pair of screams, and a booming laugh.

He rises when he hears the cabin door slams open and the squish, squish of wet shoes. Rubbing the last remnants of sleep away, Chris peers down from his upper bunk.

He falters for a moment. They're drenching wet. From their hair down to their shorts.  _Oh, they must have fallen into the lake._

Before he could say anything, Connor pulls his drawers open more harshly than need be. He snatches pencils and paper out before pushing it back close with just as much aggression. "I'm gonna get Lee back. He's going to pay. He's going to suffer. He's going to—"

"Be pranked!"

"Going to beg for mercy."

"Let's get everyone too! Castor, Pollux, Annabeth, Clarisse, Chris, Luke, Chiron, Clarisse, Luke again."

"Lee is going to regret messing with me."

"Hey, doesn't Lee like to practice in the music room? We can tape an air horn to the door so when he opens it, HOOONNNKKKKK! Oh, and Chris loves strawberries, doesn't he? I know the store has whipped cream. We can mix it with red dye and dot it with white paint. We can sneak some in for breakfast! Oh my gods, I'm so excited. Ican'twaittoprankeveryone. Thisisthebestplaceever!"

Chris swallows and pulls his blanket over him.

Traditions were meant to be broken, right? There's no way he can let them prank him if he knows what's coming. That's not fun or genuine so he should just save himself the—

His bed dips. Someone grasps the end of his blanket. And he vaults off his bed before the cover could be ripped off.

He lands feet first on the ground, face trembling as he looks behind him to see two devils smirking down at him. Connor raises a silver, unlabelled canister.

"You let Lee and Luke prank us," he accuses, "So now we're gonna get our revenge."

His younger brother looks  _furious_. His other younger brother looks gleeful.

And that's not a really good combo to have at all.

Chris gulps and dashes out of the cabin, failing to notice the trip rope at the entrance that snaps, tipping a bucket of water over him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note:
> 
> I'm not really a pranking person. Like... I probably never commit a prank on anybody that aren't my brothers so this chapter was really, really difficult.
> 
> I don't think I said this enough but I appreciate every one of you who reads this fic! I really, really do and I can't express how thankful I am some of you continue to read each new chapter. It really warms my heart and makes me all fuzzy inside :)
> 
> I'm going to try to stick with my schedule because the whole point I wrote this fanfic other than my never-ending love for the Stolls is to have daily practice with writing. But school is kinda ugh and my internship is taking a large part of my energy so please understand if I may not follow my schedule.


	11. Cabin 11 - Problem Solving

#  **Cabin 11 — Problem Solving**

Travis (13) - Connor (12)

September

Post - Sea of Monsters

—

I hate camp.

I hate _camp_.

I hate camp _so freaking  much_.

There’s no one responsible here. No one who is even a _little_ bit decent. Mom said this place would be fun. I’ll learn how to fight and know who my real dad is. But so far, all it is are kids snickering behind my back, kids saying I’m from the “traitor” cabin, and kids doing a whole bunch of ass-kicking.

I wish my dad would hurry up and claim me. I don’t want to stay here. I hate it here. I want to go back home to California. I want to go home to mom and Buddy. I want to go—

“Hey, Martin?”

I raise my blankets a little bit to see … what are their names again? Those twins? Brothers? I forgot. But they’re my ‘counselors,’ whatever that means.

“What’s wrong?” one of them asks. I wish they wear name tags. I hate twins for this very reason. I never know who I’m talking too.

“Nothing is wrong.” And I throw my blankets over my head.

I didn’t hear them move away, but I also don’t hear them at all. Did they leave and I just didn’t hear them? I peek under my covers to see that they’ll still there and they’re still looking at me with worry. I wonder how much of that is actually real and how much is faked for their job. This is their job, right? They don’t really care for me. They don’t care about anyone here.

I lower the cover and turn my back.

They’re still not leaving.

Fine. Whatever. I’ll tell them and I sit up on my bed, cocooning myself in my blanket.

“It’s the bullies again. They keep saying ‘jack of trades, master of none.’” It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be upset. If I look at it closer, it means I’m okay on all things. There’s nothing I’m bad at. But their voice is so irritatedly patronizing, I hate it so much. I hate them so much.

One of them smiles. He snaps his fingers. “Then just say, ‘better than a master of one.’ All Ares knows is fighting, Apollo is either archery or healing. Hephaestian children can only do crafts. We are all of those things. We’re more useful than they’ll ever be. I mean, that is if Hermes claims you. If you end up being claimed by one of those three, then forget I said anything.”

The other smiles too, but in a more sinister way. It kind of scares me. “Do you know who they are? We’ll prank them for you.”

The first one perks up and I notice he has a crooked smile. “Or that. We can prank them into oblivion if you want.”

Pranking sounds more fun.

“It was two girls,” I say. “They both have blond hair and they’ll 2 inches taller than me. I think they each have at least 2 beads.”

One turns to his twin. “Travis?”

_Travis and Connor! That’s right. Their names are Travis and Connor._

Travis nods. “I don’t sense fibbing.”

And they both stand. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.” Connor says, “So, Travis, you’re the brainstormer. What kind of trick do you want to pull?”

Travis smiles again and I wraps my blanket tighter around me. He’s scary... but Connor is also scary. They’re both scary.

“It’s Mikaela and Michelle from Apollo Cabin. Do you remember Mikaela is really scared of worms and Michelle is scared of spiders? Let’s fill their shampoos with them.”

I fall back onto my bed and closes my eyes.

_Yeah, right._

There’s no way someone can do something like that.  

I want to go home.

“Are you sure, dear? You have only been there for a week.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Everybody here is really mean. They all make fun of me and the people I’m rooming with. Nobody tries to stop it and nobody tries to help me—”

I thought back to my counselors. They were going to do something. A prank or something stupid like that. They’re probably lying. People don’t keep their promises.

* * *

 

“I want to go home. Can you come pick me up?”

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll be there in two hours. Can I talk to Chi—”

Someone screams.

Mom jumps and asks me what’s wrong. I told her I’ll be right back and races outside. There’s a huge crowd in the center of the cabins. People are arguing but I couldn’t see who. I shove my way to the front, ignoring the annoyed grunts and glares.

I see Travis and Connor. They’re standing in front of two boys, one with blond hair restraining a boy with black hair.

“Let me go, Lee. I’m gonna kill these two idiots!”

“Calm down, Michael. Let’s all talk to Chiron together in the Big House.”

Travis, or Connor, sees me standing by the side and waves. I wave back hesitantly.

No...They couldn’t have...

But no more than a second later. There’s a screeching cry from Apollo’s cabin. “IT’S STILL IN MY HAIR!”

I think it was that moment I liked Camp just a teensy, tiny bit.

* * *

 

Chiron later said an announcement during dinner that “No bullying will be tolerated” and that all incidents should be reported to him. No counselors should take the matter into their own hands.

Travis and Connor snicker on our table. Chiron turns a sharp eye on them and repeats it again. _No counselors should take the matter into their own hands._

Dinner resumes and I ate with a smile for the first time.

“Hey,” our counselor said with a warm smile and we all look at him, “If anyone is ever bothering you guys, just tell us. We’ll take care of it.”

The other nodded, his mouth full, “That’s what family for, ya know? Don’t think you’ll ever bother us. I _love_ pranking. It is my life. I can never get bored of it. I have _so_ many ideas for _so_ many people. Help me put my plans to fruition.”

“Travis, chill. You’ll scare them.”

“Me? Scare them? Your uptightness will kill them sooner than me.”

Family...

I guess I’ll give this camp thing another try.

Who knows, maybe this whole ‘war’ thing will blow over in a month or two and I’ll get to see what camp is really like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched Avengers: Infinity Wars and I gotta say (no spoilers because I'm not like that), best. movie. ever. 
> 
> But yeah, any comment and/or criticism is welcome!


	12. Annabeth - Trust

Cont. of Annabeth - Alike, Chapter 4

**Annabeth — Trust**

Annabeth (7) - Travis (7) - Connor (6)

Travis Stoll is a pain.

Seriously.

A pain.

* * *

Annabeth could feel the dread growing as she rifles through the paper. Yeah, they're definitely not twins.

May 21st. Connor Stoll.

June 20th. Travis Stoll.

She raises her head dejectedly. Connor is smirking at her, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

She only looks back down to rifle around some more.

Maybe she misread.

But nope. The dates are definitely different. They are definitely not twins.

"So?" Connor says with a smug smile.

Travis stares at his bowl of cereal. Luke downs his glass of orange juice. Chris toys with his shirt.

Annabeth sighs, putting the paper down. "You're not twins."

The smug smile grows smuggler. "And?"

Annabeth grits her teeth. "I'm sorry."

"And?"

Travis drops his spoon and shakes his brother by the shoulder. "Hey! Let's drop it okay?" But Connor only rolls his shoulder and shake the hand off.

"No, we made a deal. You're wrong, so tell me your biggest fear."

"Why?"

"Just tell me."

"Spiders. I don't like spiders."

And Connor wrinkles his nose in disgust but it is quickly followed by a grin. "Thanks."

* * *

Annabeth expected something.

She knew something was going to happen.

She just kinda expected some kind of teensy-weensy spider somewhere in her belongings. In her bed. In her food. In the bathroom. She was absolutely ready.

But a tarantula?

Connor was lucky Luke was with him after she killed the spider. She would have killed him next.

* * *

Luke says they're here to stay for the long run, that she should try to make friends with them. And even though Annabeth nods and says she'll try, she won't.

Maybe that's why the Fates decided to have the ceiling cave in that day in the inventory. She had heard horrendous creaking and it was her quick thinking alone that she manages to pull both of her companions back by the back of their shirt before one of the ceiling's supporting rod comes crashing down.

Dust and dirt flew into the air and Annabeth coughs, waving her hand to clear the debris.

Her heart falls when she can see. The fallen pillar blocks the exit, their only exit. There's no windows. No ducts to get out with. They're trapped in here.

The pillar was huge, but that didn't stop Connor from trying to lift it. It didn't budge at all. It's useless. They only thing he's going to succeed in is getting splinters.

She is going to say something and she was about to until Travis pulls on her shirt. "Connor just wants something to do," he says, sitting down on the ground caked with cockroach poops.

Annabeth wrinkles her nose and crouches, but not sitting, beside him.

"Hey, Annabeth," Travis started, head tilting to the side, "What does undetermined mean again?"

Annabeth grits her teeth. She hates this topic. Everybody in the Hermes cabin hates this question. She means, it should be obvious from the name alone. 'Undetermined.' Not determined. Seriously, what's so confusing about it? But she sucks it up and answers anyway. "When you're undetermined, your parent hasn't claimed you."

"Are you undetermined?"

"No, I'm claimed. I just don't like sleeping by myself in my cabin sometimes." She rests her chin on her cheeks. Before summer ended, Luke had told her about all the undetermined in his cabin. He said some have been there for years and hate being reminded they're not claimed yet. Annabeth frowns. "You shouldn't ask people if they're claimed or not. It's not nice."

"Huh." Travis leans his head back with a face like he couldn't understand why. "How long does it take—"

"It depends," she interrupts, "Some people get claimed fast like you and your brother. Others, not for years." And some, never as she thinks about to that summer when she saw one left from Hermes cabin in the middle of summer, unclaimed. The necklace she left behind on her bed had 10 beads.

She hopes her tone tells him she doesn't want to talk about this topic. And Travis remains silent. Thankfully. Until he's tapping his heel on the floorboard, drumming his fingers on the wood, and predictably, he turns to her again with a new topic. (She should have known. He can't keep quiet.)

"Are you still mad Connor left a spider in your bed?"

"Yes. Very," she seethes.

"Sorry."

_You and your brother aren't the same_ person, she wants to say but she bit her tongue. If Annabeth is being honest with herself, Travis is the nicer of the two. Does she really want to make the both of them hate her gut? But supposedly that's her fault for starting the fight. Which she could understand. But a tarantula? How did Connor even get his hands on one?

She's going to get even.

She will get even.

She'll even the score and inflict the same amount of fear and terror that she felt right onto the playing board, gonna launch a rocket onto the mountain and make it a plain. Connor's gonna regret messing with her.

A hand on her sleeve pulls her from her thought. Travis looks at her with that tilt. He has another question. "Why are you a yearrounder?"

She's quickly learning to associate that tilt with undesirable questions.

"It's personal," she answers harshly, maybe too harshly because Travis winces and twiddles his thumbs.

"Okay."

Connor is still trying, and still failing to find a way out. He gives up trying to move the fallen pillar, instead is now screaming for help in a very loud, very irritating way.

It's useless. Everyone is in the middle of Greek Language right now. They won't be done until half an hour from now.

Connor let out another ear-piercing scream for help that almost burst her eardrums. Annabeth couldn't help thinking Lee would love him. Lately, he's been looking for someone to sing songs with. She moves to stand, to go somewhere where Connor can't burse her eardrums, but a hand latches onto her shirt again. "Can I ask another question?"

Annabeth shakes her head, tugging her shirt free and taking a few steps forward. "No, I'm getting out of—"

But Travis asks it anyway. "Do you hate us?"

She didn't say anything. Hate is a strong word. Dislike would be more suitable.

Travis kept talking. "Connor think everybody hates us. Even Luke and dad. He thinks nobody likes us and that we're bothering everyone."

Annabeth clenches her fists.  _Bother...everyone._  Why does it hit a chord in her?

"I don't really remember much about our dad. All I know was he left us at an orphanage. And they didn't like us at the orphanage."

"Why?" she asks, but it strikes her a second later: the reason why she left home, the reason for the fights and worry between her family. It's because of —

"The monsters but the others see them as just creepy boys and girl. We would see them everywhere too: in the orphanage, outside on the yard, and in the hallways. I tried telling them they were monsters with this big eye in the middle or monsters with black, wrinkly skin but none of them listen. The other kids used to say how we're Satan or the devils since the monsters start showing up when we came. Then one of the kids disappeared. Mrs. Aggy talked about moving us away to a smaller home because we're hurting everyone else. Nobody wanted us there."

_Hurting everyone…wanted…_  She closes her eyes. It didn't take much to remember her own home and the problems, about her dad. How he asked for Athena to take her back. How he has to be lectured why he's supposed to care for her. How he took her stepmom's side over hers. Over everything. And how they fight, how her mom wanted her sent. How they look at her and relented her existence. How nobody wanted her there.

Connor's still screaming, oblivious to their conversation. Or maybe he does know and doesn't want to talk about it. She opens her eyes and looks back to Travis who stares at her with wide, blue eyes that seen the same things she did, faced the same problems she did.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Luke said how you and Connor are alike. Connor was the one who said we should run away. So we did. You ran away too, didn't you? Luke said you did." Travis said with his head high. Annabeth grits her teeth. Once she gets out of here, Luke is getting a lesson on confidentiality.

"And also," Annabeth raise her head to see Travis blank-faced. "Luke said birds of a feather flock together and that we should talk to each other so we can become friends."

Annabeth sits down on the floor next to him. "Did he really said that or are you making stuff up?"

"I'm telling the truth!" Travis says, hurt in his eyes and mouth in a pout. "Luke told me I should tell you our past so you'll be more easier to make friends with. He said you're too full of pride and that it really stinks like — eek!"

Annabeth's glare cuts his sentence short and for a moment, Connor stops screaming to look back. But Travis waves his hands and even though Connor frowns a little, narrows his eyes a little, even takes a tiny step towards them, he still turns back to screaming for help. But it's a quieter, not as focused as it could be, and it's so easy to tell with how he stands what he's doing.

Travis sighs and scratches the back of his head. "I guess we're done talking."

He stands to move away, but she snags the ends of his shirt and tugs once. And when he turns that questioning set of eyes to her, she lowers her head. Birds of a feather flock together. "Before Luke, were you lonely?"

Travis cocks an eyebrow. "Lonely? I had Connor."

"But nobody else?"

And Travis seems to understand. He shrugs his shoulders. "Nobody is worth believing in. They all just fail us."

And she remembers Luke's words, from all those months ago, but unbelievably clear in her memories. His promise. Her relief. Their kindness.

_[You're part of our family now. And I promise I'm not going to fail you like our families did.]_

She fists his shirt in her hands and stares up at him, eyes set and determined. "I'll be someone you— both of you— can trust. For forever"

And she knows Travis understands without having to say it outright. He smiles brightly, warmly, sincerely, and a little inkling of that happiness seeps into her as she smiles back.

* * *

_I'll be your friend._

_For forever._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is hard. Life is hard. But sleep. Sleep is easy and a wonderful blessing to this dreary period in my life. I'm reminded of my shortcomings whenever I open my Google doc. It just makes me want to keep it all in my head and keep fantasizing rather than making it a reality. I know you shouldn't compare yourself to other writers, but it's hard not too. Maybe Tumblr's negativity is getting to me. Tumblr does have a way of dragging everyone down into a spiral of negativity. Good thing I got myself into a new anime called Haikyuu and Oikawa Tooru is the light of my life. (Also the Johzenji's Volleyclub Club. What a fun bunch.)
> 
> I relate with Oikawa so much. Just replace volleyball with writing and that's basically me.


	13. Annabeth - Faith

#  **Annabeth — Faith**

Annabeth (7) - Travis (7) - Connor (6)

It’s incredible what comes out of eavesdropping, intentional or not.

And even though she’ll never do it if she has a choice, Annabeth has to admit that it probably saved her relationship with one, snappy, little brother.

* * *

 

The first time is an accident even though they might say otherwise. She was only playing Hide-and-Seek with the Dionysus twins. And the point of Hide-and-Seek if you’re a hider is to _hide_ and be _unseen._

She wasn’t trying to spy on them or listen in to what they were saying or anything like that. She didn’t even hear them bound up their creaky porch that apparently gone magically silent. If she had, she would have definitely gotten up from that loose floorboard in the middle of their cabin and said something. But she didn’t hear and by the time she processed she wasn’t alone, they just started talking.

“So what do you think now?”

“I still think there’s a catch. Nothing in life is free.”

Someone is pacing a bit away, the boards whining.

“Come on, Connor. It’s been almost a month. If there’s a catch, then shouldn’t they tell us by now?”

“The more you trust someone, the easier it is to make them do stuff for you.”

“I think you’re being too paranoid.”

A bed creaks. Someone yawns.

“Someone has to be.”

And the board she’s hiding under creaks, dust falling down. To her horror, she could feel a tickle in her nose.

_Oh no._

She clenches her nose with both hands.

_Oh no._

Her eyes burn with tears.

_Oh no._

It’s coming. She can’t stop it.

And she sneezes, loud and unrestrained, as the board is rip off a millisecond later.

For that second, she could just see Connor’s face. Eyes narrowed, brows bunched, a cold calculating countenance opposite to Tra — then another face, the same face pops up beside Connor’s but that face is relaxed, easy going, even sporting a teasing grin.

Travis nudges Connor with his elbow and she thought he mouths something to his brother, but she didn’t catch it in time. Travis turns back to her and snickers. “I thought you hate spiders, Anniebeth. Isn’t there a lot of spiders there?”

Annabeth scrambles to her feet, watching Connor laid the board back down where it was and him rising with a scowl on his face. She could see his mouth opening, could literally hear his accusations, and she beat him to it before anything came out.

“It’s Annabeth. I wasn’t spying. I was playing hide and seek with Castor and —”

Travis yawns and walks away to fall flat onto their shared bed. “Yeah, we believe you. Don’t be so scared.”

“Is that what your gut is telling you?” Connor says, still glaring at her. Travis hums and Connor’s shoulders relaxed but his eyes still follow her with distrust, caution, trepidation. Seriously, they have one little fight and he’s acting like they’re long-lived enemies.

“I wasn’t scared,” Annabeth argues.

“Yeah, you were,” Travis says, getting up and grinning at her with crossed legs.

“I wasn’t.” And because she’s nosy, she asks, “What were you talking about?”

“It’s none of your—”

Travis claps his hands, drawing both of their attention. For a moment, his face darts around in panic but it settles on her shoulders and his eyes glint with malice, a little tick Annabeth knows as his ‘I’m lying to mess with you.’

“There’s a spider on your shoulder.”

She knows he’s lying but she still falls for it, yelping and slapping her shoulders, as Travis runs past her, towing his reluctant brother along by the hand.

Before they even left the cabin, she hears Travis sighs, “If you want friends, you need to be nicer.”

And it was like Annabeth could hear the scowl in Connor’s voice. “And you trust too easily. It’s gonna get us killed one day.”

She would have frown in thought as she processed what was said if she didn’t hear Connor, Travis, doesn’t matter who, say very loudly, very joyfully, “Castor, Pollux! Hi. Annabeth is in our cabin. We have a secret board on the floor too in case she’s there.”

And Annabeth scrambles for a new hiding spot, cursing beneath her breath as she dives for a bed.

Damn them. Damn them. Damn them.

* * *

 

The second time was also an accident.

It was the middle of the night in her cabin. She woke up because she heard a sound, like hooves scraping dirt, claws on wood, heavy feet on gravel, and those fears from all those months ago comes back. _It’s the monsters. They’re back. They’re here. Where’s her hammer? Did she leave it? Forget it somewhere? Where’s—_

Then she finds the dagger Luke gave her tuck in her drawer and she slips off her bed, padding swiftly, lightly to the door. She stops to peek outside the window first but nothing moved. All is quiet. Camp is supposed to be safe. No monsters can cross the barrier. But nothing is certain and she’ll be a fool to think that.

She opens her door and listens. Nothing. Then she peeks her head out and looks. Nothing. Was it really her imagination? She closes the door and trudges her way back to bed, places the dagger on the nightstand, and throws the cover over her head.

And as she was on the brink of sleep, she heard it again.

Okay, that’s it. She’s done sleeping by herself alone in her cabin. Time for a sleepover at Hermes.

She slid off her bed and gathers her blankets and pillow. Then after making sure the coast is clear, she made a beeline for the familiar cabin.

Her foot was almost on the porch when she heard it once more. This time though, it sounds a lot clearer and Annabeth can recognize it for what it was. Sniffling. Hard sniffling. Is someone crying?

It’s coming from behind the cabin. Annabeth lowers her bedding to rest on the porch’s stairs and walks towards the sound, a hand on the wall to guide her and slippers silent on the dirt.

The closer she got, the more certain she is that it’s crying. Should she get Luke? It could be Chris. She heard about his sister Mary and their strained relationship. Luke would know what to do. But before she could turn around, a hushed voice rings out in the dark.

“Connor, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

Travis? Connor? Annabeth walks closer.

“It was just a dream. I’m right here.”

That’s definitely his voice.

“I’ll never leave you.”

What happened?

“Don’t be scared.”

And Annabeth accidentally kicks a rock, the pebble deafening loud as it lands.

The response is instantaneous. She could hear Travis yelps, a body hitting a wall, and a crackle of electricity, before Connor’s in front of her with a taser in his hand. She looks at it for a long second, distinctly remembering Chiron confiscating that taser.

 _He stole it back_.  

“Oh.” Annabeth looks back up to see Connor scowling and rubbing an arm over his face. “It’s just you.”

She blinks, staring at the tear tracks and red-rimmed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Connor turns around and marches to the back. She follows after him, but just as she turns the corner, the window clicks shut. And she’s by herself in the cold, wondering if this is actually a dream. She walks back to the porch and opens the door, glancing pass Luke and Chris and two more demigods to the bed the brothers share. The mound-shaped shadow is unmoving, covers up to their chins and backs to her.

Annabeth takes her usual bed in the cabin whenever she slept over and slinks into dreamland.

The morning after felt like any other and Annabeth could almost believe it was all just a weird dream if she didn’t find shoe prints on the wall leading up to the back window.

* * *

 

The third time was on purpose.

Sometimes the brothers sneak out of their cabin at 1 in the morning.

She knows this because she woke up once from a nightmare (Thalia— cyclops— cave— tree— no— _no, Thalia. No, don’t— )_ and saw them leaving through the window and headed towards the forest.

She would have followed that first time, but it was late at night, everything feels so surreal and she fell back asleep. When she woke up, she completely forgotten about it.

Well, she’s not falling asleep this time.

That day, she waited by the window after curfew. When she saw cabin 11’s  window rattles, she narrows her eyes. They slink from the window to the ground, eyes looking both ways as they wiggle the window close and run away. Annabeth slips on her boots and follows after them.

Even though they have a headstart and even though it’s a new moon and even though Annabeth can’t even see where she’s stepping and has step on six branches that cracked very, very loudly, she was still able to keep up with the brothers and remain unnoticed.

Probably because of how loud they are.

“I hate the forest. I hate the forest. I hate the forest. I want to go back to the city.”

“You just hate it because of all the mosquitos.”

“Yeah, because they all bite me. Why don’t they bite you?”

“It just means your blood is delicious. It’s a compliment!”

They stop at Zeus’s fist, leaning on the boulder’s foundation. Annabeth ducks behind a rock a few feet away.

“I am going to drown the cabin in pesticide.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“I’m not. I’m being serious. I’m gonna take the car and go to the city for pesticide.”

“Just ask Chiron to do something.”

“I don’t like Chiron.”

Annabeth bristles at those words. _Don’t like Chiron? How? Why?_ She curls her hands along the rock. She hears shoes scrap against rock and a quick peep over the top of the boulder shows the brothers climbing Zeus’s fist. She watches Connor stiffens and snaps his head to where she hid. She hoped she duck fast enough.

She didn’t hear him call her out. Maybe she did.

When they clear the top, Annabeth left her hiding spot and walks over to the base of Zeus’s Fist. She places her fingertips on the rock, wincing at the biting cold. But her face hardens with determination and she scales the rocks, going slowly and ensuring each grip before progressing. She is careful to be silent. Not that it did much for her. When she nears the top and peeks with her head barely above the top, she finds herself staring eye to eye with Trav — no, wait, Connor. An angry Connor.

“Hey,” she greets with her best nonchalant tone.

Connor scowls. “Why are you following us?”

Travis offers a hand and Annabeth accepts it, pulling herself to the summit with the help. Once she’s sure-footed and stable, she crosses her arms and raises her chin. “Why are you sneaking around? We have a curfew, you know.”

Connor opens his mouth, but Travis swings his arm over his brother and shakes him lightly. “Connor,” Travis says with a cautionary tone.

Connor rolls his eyes. “We want to look at the stars. We never saw stars in the city.”

Annabeth looks over their shoulder to see blankets laid out and bags of chips spread all over. “You guys seem to do this a lot.”

“And you seem to stalk us a—” Travis elbows him in the arm. Connor gives his brother a dirty look and, without a word, turns around to head for the blankets.

Travis offers an apologetic shrug. “Sorry. He’s really nice when you get to know him.”

Annabeth follows Travis to the other end of the top, blinking in surprise when a fleece blanket is thrown over her shoulders.

Travis smiles at her. “I’ll share with Connor. You take this one.”

“Thanks, Travis.”

The gratitude is short lived though as Travis sits down beside Connor and unnecessarily takes up more room than needed. The only spot left is by Connor’s other side and when she sits down, she didn’t miss the way Connor scoots an inch away.

Whatever. She came here to look at the sky and she did, in complete and utter silence that is definitely not uncomfortable in any way. It only lasted a minute before Travis coughs. “So, Annabeth, how much do you know about constellations?”

She lights up. She knows _a lot_ about constellations! The library in her cabin has dozens of books about stars and she rattles off everything she learned from those books: pointing out the Big Dipper, Orion, Orion’s belt, the histories behind each constellation, where her zodiac sign is, where their zodiac sign is.

She didn’t even notice Travis falling asleep nor did she notice Connor staring at her with his knees drawn close his body and chin tucked in his arms. She thinks she would have gone on and on if Connor hadn’t interrupted her.

“You’re boring.”

She stops and looks over, finally seeing Travis slump over asleep on Connor’s shoulder. Connor scrapes the rock with his shoes, not looking at her. But the way his shoulders are tense and the way he positions his arms, she wonders…

“Do you have your taser on you?” Connor stiffens. Bingo. “Can I see it?” she asks.

Connor narrows his eyes and Annabeth is quick to say, “I won’t use it on you guys. I just want to see it.”

Connor still isn’t budging. Okay, well. She holds up a pinkie. “I pinkie promise you on my mother’s name.”

The wind picks up as if her mother is there with them and acknowledging her promise. Connor still doesn’t seem convinced, but he unhooks his arms and reveals the taser. He locks his pinkie with hers and shakes it once.

“You lie to me and I’ll plant more tarantulas in your bed,” he warns.

Annabeth crinkles her nose. Noted.

She accepts the taser and turns it over in her hands. It’s heavier than she expected. And it’s more polished than one you can buy from a store. She turns it over some more, squinting when she sees a name scribbled in Sharpie.

L.A. Police Force Officer Shirren.

Connor starts bouncing his heel and Annabeth hands the taser back to him.

“Do they work against monsters?” she asks innocently.

“No, not really.”

“Then why do you have it?”

“Just in case.”

She didn’t push the issue. Instead she stretches and leans back on the rock. “All I had was a hammer.”

Connor didn’t say anything back to her and Annabeth went back to staring at the sky. She went over all the constellations she knew: Cassiopeia, Hercules, Orion, Cygnus, Gemini, Aquarius, Leo, the Big Dipper, and more. Over and over and over. It got boring quick. She wonders when they’re going back.

She rolls to her side but almost jolts in surprise to see Connor staring at her with Travis still asleep. They stare at each other for a few seconds, like a contest to see who caves first.

She did by looking back to the sky and asking, “What made you cry the other night?”

Connor’s voice is guarded. “Nothing. Mind your own business”

“Nothing gets better if you don’t try to change.”

Connor draws his knees closer to himself. “Things change without me doing anything. It’ll fix itself like it always does.”

“It won’t get better,” Annabeth says. _Home didn’t get better. The problems didn’t get better. Everything just got worse._ “If you don’t try to do something, it’ll just get worse. Trust me. I’ve been where you—”

Connor scoffs. “How long did you live on the streets?”

“A couple months before Luke.”

And Connor picks up a pebble and hurls it out to darkness. His voice is bitter, angry and when Annabeth glance over, his eyes shine with resentment. “Then you know. Anything can be a monster, so you can’t trust anybody _._ Even normal people or people like me and you. Believing in anybody is stupid. It gets you killed. Travis would have been eaten by a cyclops that first night we were out, killed by that serial killer the second night, and pecked to death by that stupid bird the third if I wasn’t with him. You can’t tell me to believe in someone when it’ll just end up stabbing us in the back.”

“But,” and she angles her face to the side so she could better see Connor, “Travis can feel lies, right? He would have felt something by now if we’re all lying.”

“There’s ways to get around it,” he says, wincing a second later as Annabeth’s eyes widen.

“How?” she asks, cogs turning. _Does it work by feeling for body changes? Or mental discrepancies? Or is it something Travis needs to activate?_

As expected, Connor didn’t elaborate further and Annabeth went on, tucking that little tidbit in the back of her mind. She’ll figure it out later. She’ll have lots of time later to figure it out.

“Well, you can trust me. I won’t do anything to hurt you guys. ”

“Sure. I’ll believe you.” Connor rolls his eyes and his voice says he’s being sarcastic. But underneath she could hear a little bit of uncertainty, a little bit ambivalence and she guesses that’s the best she could hope for.

And because she’s tired and sleepy and cold, she asks, “When are we going back?”

“Go back by yourself,” Connor grumbles and Annabeth blows a raspberry at him. She stands up and wraps the blanket tighter around her. But before she could even take a step, Connor reaches up and snags the drooping corners of the blanket.

He doesn’t look at her, but at his shoes. “You said you’ll be Travis’ friend.”

“I said I’ll be both of your friends.”

“For forever, right? Even if I make you super, duper mad?”

So he was listening. “Forever means forever.”

Connor thought about it, staring at the star-twinkling night. Then he looks up at her and smiled with his crooked grin. “Your scream was super funny when you saw that tarantula. I wished I recorded it.”

Annabeth’s jaws clench and she tosses the blanket aside, cracking her knuckles. “I’m going to destroy you, Connor. You shouldn’t have reminded me.”

But Connor only laughs and shakes Travis’ shoulders shallowly. “See? You’re already breaking your promise. You suck.”

Travis raises his head, blinking blearily around him and stifling a yawn. “Wha? What promise? Connor?”

Annabeth takes several steps back to the edge with a teasing grin that’s born partly out of exhaustion and of pride. “I’m not breaking my promise to you. I’m just gonna tell Chiron that you two been sneaking out at night. He’s gonna punish you. Not me.” Then she turns around and scales down the boulder.

“Hey, that’s still your fault! You’re still breaking your promise. Hey, Anniebeth! Travis, get up. We’re stopping Anniebeth before she rat us out.”

“It’s Annabeth. _Anna-_ beth,” she yells before devoting all her concentration to moving faster.

She plops on the ground with a small oof, smiling triumphantly when she sees they just start climbing down. “Hah! I’m on the ground. Good luck catching up to me,” she shouts, no intention of ratting them out.

And Connor, thank gods, seem to understand this because he turns his head to blow a raspberry. But then his eyes lock above her head and he pales.

And before she could turn around to see what he’s staring at, she hears the rustle of feathers and it’s like a dart to the board when she recalls.

Camp has harpies.

Camp has harpies. They work as the night patrol. And she heard so, so, so many stories about their extremely good ears and even better eyes and even more better snitching.

When Annabeth turns around — inching her head up, up, and up — annoyed, brown eyes stare back. _Oh cru—_  

“Annabeth.” Chiron’s face is stern. “Travis. Connor. Would you three mind telling me why you’re breaking curfew?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I’m just gonna get this out of my Google Doc so I don’t have to be haunted by my ~~suckiness~~ , I mean, writer’s block anymore.


	14. Annabeth - Dog Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth promised Cerberus she'd come and visit.
> 
> And she will.
> 
> She won't break her promise.
> 
> She'll never break her promises.
> 
> (not when she came back to camp when things are going bad at home again and she's reminded again of Luke's promise to her, 'I'll be your new family and I promise I won't fail you the way our families did', a promise he clearly broke.)

**Annabeth — Dog Person**

Annabeth (12) - Travis (12) - Connor (11)

January

—

Annabeth promised Cerberus she'd come and visit.

And she will.

She won't break her promise.

She'll  _never_ break her promises.

(not when she came back to camp when things are going bad at home  _again_  and she's reminded again of Luke's promise to her, ' _I'll be your new family and I promise I won't fail you the way our families did'_ , a promise he clearly broke.)

Coming back to Camp Half Blood for a little break from her family reminded her of that promise she made in the Underworld.

But the thing is, when she made the decision to go visit, she didn't think she would have two pesky brothers on her back, asking questions about why she's trying to sneak out, about why she's trying to hijack the car, about why she's trying to call the Gray Sisters' Taxi Services.

They're so nosy and impossible and such little dicks,

" _We'll tell Chiron, Anniebeth."_

" _Tell us where you are going."_

" _Why are you trying to leave when you just got back?"_

" _Do we bother you that much? Oh gods, we do don't we?"_

" _Awesome! We still got it."_

That she ended up bringing them along.

Which is a good thing, she guesses.

Because she was about to get into the Underworld the way she did before with Percy, but they — Annabeth remembering their father's epithet  _psychopompos_ , shepherd of souls — they know another entry. One that is a lot closer.

So she follows them out of camp undetected. (When she asked how, they refuse to tell her, winking and saying in unison,  _it's a secret_.)

She follows them to the main road where they hitchhike to Manhattan. (Never mind the fact they were picked up by a cyclops and were nearly back to a den of hungry one-eyed monsters.)

And she follows them to the bowels of New York City.

It is obvious they are at home here. They blend and merge into the crowd, so fluidly, so unnoticeable, she lost sight of them. They had to go back for her and Travis had to keep a hand on her wrist as she's pulled along.

Pulled straight to a dumpster.

She wrinkles her nose.

"Are you sure this is it?"

Travis nods. "We hid here once and saw the door to the Underworld."

Connor smiles cheekily at her. "Why? Is Anniebeth scared of getting a wee bit smelly—"

"There's a cockroach by your feet," Annabeth says, ignoring Connor's screeching, Travis' laughing, and walks up to the dumpster. She lifts the lid and pulls back in disgust.

It smells.

Like a dumpster should.

Travis and Connor jump in without hesitation, but Annabeth lingers by the entry, staring at the red stain on the bottom and at the black grim coating the walls and at the single, black trash bag in the corner. There's nothing here that indicates a passage to the underworld.

If it were anyone else, Annabeth would have doubts. But after 5 long (very, very long) years of living with them, of being pranked by them, of being bothered and annoyed and teased in every way Mankind knows how, she can tell they're not messing with her.

She almost wishes they are.

With a sigh, Annabeth pinches her nose with a hand and jumps in after them, choking as the lid close and the damp, moldy smell grows stronger and unbearable.

"So what do we do now?"

Connor crouches down and touches the dirtied bottom with his hand. Annabeth would have retch in disgust if the pattern glowing brighter every second didn't halt whatever her stomach is going to push up. She stares as the outline of a door appears on the floor, traced by a neon blue and she watches as it loses its 2nd-dimensional shape. The door seems to rise off the ground, rising and rising until it's an inch above the grim-coated floor. Near the edge of the door, a line glows the same blue and caves in, forming a car handle.

Travis grips the handle and heaves up, the door opening wide to Hell's fiery sky and ghastly screams drifting up from the entry.

"That… that is really…"

Connor grabs her wrist and tugs harshly. He looks strained. "Come on, hurry. Before anyone notices."

They descend into hell with Travis dropping the door behind them.

She falls only for a few seconds before landing firmly on solid ground, noticing she's right across from the River Styx. She could see Charon on the other side, a hand on his cheek and appearingly bored out of his mind.

An entrance where the dead don't have to pay the fare. That could spell trouble.

"Travis? Travis?! Holy shit. Annabeth, do you have any ambrosia?"

Annabeth spins around and her heart freezes for a moment when she sees Travis on his knee with Connor half standing, half kneeling over him and a hand underneath his shoulder.

"I'm fine," Travis says. He doesn't sound fine. "Don't cuss. Swear jar."

Travis tries to stand and crumbles down to his knees. He glances at her, probably sees the look on her face, and instantly his grimace is replaced with a smile.

"Don't worry. It just takes a lot of power to open a gate to hell. I don't think visiting Cerberus can be a daily thing."

She bites her lip, moving to Travis's side and helping him stand. "I'm sorry for dragging you along."

The smile and dismissive wave of a hand didn't really mean much when Travis's knees buckled after one step. Connor moves to Travis's other side and hook the arm over his shoulder and together, they move forward.

"Hrnnnghhhhhh, Travis, why are you so heavy?"

"Shut up, Connor. I'm not heavy. You just don't have any muscles."

"Stop bickering," Annabeth snaps. "Cerberus should be around here and being aggressive will make him aggressive."

It shuts them up for a good five seconds before Connor leans his head past Travis to fixate his eyes on her. An eyebrow is raised and his mouth is drawn tight. "Hey, Annabeth. Are you  _positive_ Cerberus is a good monster?"

Annabeth understands his concern. There's no such thing as a friendly monster in their books, especially demigod eating ones. But Cerberus was willing to listen to her commands last time. She's sure he'll listen to them again. So she nods her head and answers with the confidence she can, "Positive."

Right after she said that Cerberus pounces on them.

A paw knocks them down and pins their lower bodies to the ground. Annabeth hears a low growl, hot breath gushing into her face. A wet snout presses near her face, sniffling. And just as quick as Cerberus attacked, he got off, sitting on his hind legs and shaking positively in joy _._

Faintly, she's aware of Connor's yelping ( _Th-that's Cerberus? You didn't tell me it'll be this big. It's-it's-it's the size of our cabin. Oh my gods. Ohhhh my gods)_ and Annabeth frowns. Whoops.

She stands and Cerberus plops onto his stomach that shakes the ground and nearly causes her to fall back down. Even down on all four, the dog almost towers over her. Tentatively she raises a hand, six pairs of eyes following it, and scratches the leftmost dog's head, chuckling at the little yips. She smiles. "Hey, I came back."

The middle sniffs her pockets and whines. They paw the ground, looking at her with begging eyes. Annabeth shakes her head sadly. "Sorry, I didn't bring any toys with me."

"I did." Travis presents a red rubber ball. A normal size rubber ball. For normal size dogs. She really should have told them how big Cerberus was.

"I stole, I mean, brought it before we came here plus some other dog toys. But I think you're a little too big for — ah!"

Cerberus races to Travis and nearly stomps him into the ground in their eagerness. Connor pulls him back by the scruff of his shirt in time before Travis becomes a pancake.

Connor's tensed, pale, trembling, a hand shoved in his pocket where he has his celestial Swiss Army Knife, a gift from their father supposedly. The idea of a small knife facing against a giant beast like Cerberus is laughable and Annabeth would have laughed if she wasn't terrified of how Cerberus will respond. The right head is already baring their teeth. The middle head is cocked to the side and soon the left will notice something is wrong. They're going to die if she doesn't do something.

"Connor, wait— don't! — you'll make them—"

"Sit, Cerberus," Travis commands with a strictness she didn't think he had in him, voice rising when Cerberus remains standing. "Sit down  _now_."

It plops down, whimpering. The right head bares its teeth once more and growls lowly. Travis snaps at it to stop and surprisingly, it did. The middle barks, almost scoldingly, at the right head who flattens their ears and looks down.

Travis turns to his brother, eyes twinkling. "Dude, Connor, he's massive. I never saw a dog this big before," Travis says in awe, all sternness gone from his voice, "Hey, Cerberus, see the ball? Can you catch? Catch!" He throws the ball in an upward arc, far and long. Cerberus got up quickly, feet stumbling a little over each other as it does a 180. The tail would have sent them flying if they didn't duck

Annabeth worries for a moment the toy will become a choking hazard, but it seems even they know it's too small. With dexterity and speed that's admirable for its size, Cerberus runs after the ball. Rather than bite, it jumps and smacks the ball down with its oversized paws, pinning it safely to the ground before rolling it back to them.

It sits on its rear, looking expectedly down at them.

Travis is the one who reacts first, pulling himself to his feet with Connor's help. "Holy macaro — that's so cool! You're such a good boy, Cerberus!"

The tail wags.

"Here, you ready for it again? Go get it!"

Connor drops his hand on Travis' shoulder, grimacing and jabbing a thumb behind him. "Imma go. Be careful. Call me if you need me. Bye."

And just like that Connor is turning around and walking away. Giving a look to Travis who seems to have a handle on the situation, Annabeth follows Connor. They didn't go far, just a couple meters away.

Connor sits on the ground with a sigh and closes his eyes. "Please, please,  _please_ , Anniebeth, give me a size warning next time. I nearly peed my pants when I saw it. Gods, I hate dogs."

Annabeth sits down carefully next to him. "Why? They're adorable."

"Not when they're trying to chew your face off. A rabid dog attacked us once in Wisconsin. Ever since then, I don't want anything to do with animals."

Oh.

She watches Travis laughs and rubs Cerberus on the tummy, unflinching when one of the heads nuzzles him on the cheek. "Does Travis not care or doesn't remember?"

"He remembers. He's just a weirdo whose danger sensor needs a fixing with Beckendorf."

Travis must have heard them because he rubs Cerberus with more fervor and coos in a ridiculous puppy voice, "You're such a sweetheart, aren't you? You won't hurt me. Ignore your mean uncle. I love you so—ack! Too much licking! No more licking! Oh my gods, your breath stinks. Who washes your teeth?"

Connor rolls his eyes, but there's endearment in his action. She can see that ( _but she can't say the same for her—_ ). Connor's head lolls back and he asks with sympathy, "So trouble at home again, huh? Are you done for the year or are you going back?"

She crinkles her nose. "We only had a little… spat. It's not too big. I'm going back next week." Just thinking about her family, when this is supposed to be break time from them has her blood boiling a little bit.  _It was just a little, itty-bitty monster and she took care of it before it ever got close to them. Why do they get so mad at her? It's not her fault. The monsters just come. It's not like she can turn off the demigod part of her._

Connor bumps her shoulder with his. He's grinning at her and the smile is just a level short of malicious. "Do you want me and Travis to come over? I'm sure we can make you seem like an angel."

Annabeth bites her cheeks and tries hard to keep her face straight. "What's the price?"

"5 drachmas for each day we're there. Transportation must be included."

"And?" she says, "What is the plan?"

The smile grows more crooked. "You know, the usual. Prank a little. Yell a bit. Throw a couple punches at each other. For 5 more drachmas, we can get law enforcement involved too."

"And what about the monsters that will definitely come with three of us there?"

"You'll kick their asses and make your brothers adore you. Everybody loves badass sisters. It's an extra 10 drachmas for each monster that appears though. Safety fee, you know."

"I want the friend discount."

"No discounts."

"Then I'm not interested," Annabeth says with a turn of her head to the side, trying and failing, to keep her laugh in.

Connor shrugs. "Hm. Okay. Whatever you say. We'll see in a month or two. You'll definitely give in by then and I'll have the last—"

They both heard it at the same time.

Charon's creaky boat drifting through the River Styx and coming their way.

Connor stands first and pulls Travis' arm over his shoulder. "Sorry. Timetogo. ByeDoggieDog." And he starts dragging Travis away. Annabeth pets Cerberus' snout and pushes slightly when they stand to follow Travis.

"No, Cerberus, stay," Travis yells over his shoulder.

Cerberus listens, but cries and whines, almost howling.

 _Are you coming back?_ They seem to ask.

Travis promises soon. Connor groans and yells for her to hurry up. Annabeth smiles and gives one last head scratch before running after the brothers.

They're waiting for her when she arrives. Travis has his hands on a rock, eyes closed in concentration. The outline of a door glows and Connor hurries to pull it open. Annabeth pulls Travis with her as she crosses and Connor, following suit, closes the gate.

The first thing she notices is that they're not in a dumpster. The air she so heavenly breathes in is too fresh, too clean.

No, that dumpster would be a thousand better than where they are.

Because right in front of them, out of all the places they could end up, it had to be in a horse stall, right when the horse is defecating.

And right when there is a girl there grooming the coat.

They stare at each other. Annabeth's gray eyes and the girl's bright green ones.

Nobody said anything for a moment.

Then Travis sneezes and the horse rears. The girl snaps her eyes away, pulling on the reins to lead the horse out. Dimly, Annabeth is aware of the walls, of the ground, rumbling and shaking and grumbling.

"Da-Dad! Daaaaaaaad!"

"Katie? Katie, what is it?!"

_Ohh crap._

Annabeth scrambles for her drachma, finally noticing the slumped over Connor on her back. He would have faceplants into the pile of feces if Travis hadn't caught him.

"Is he okay?!"

Travis nods quickly, gesturing for her to get a move on and eyeing the rumbling walls beside them. They're moving. Something is crawling along the ways but Travis shakes her shoulder hard before she could looker closer. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, he's fine. Now let's hurry and get out of here!"

Somehow they manage to make it back to camp. Manage to sneak back in undetected. Manage to avoid any questions why the brothers slept all day. And, according to the letters Connor mailed her once she went back home, for the next month managed to keep it all a secret until that girl they met in the stall came to camp and ratted them out.

It was fate, Annabeth thinks, that the girl— Katie Gardner— took the title of being the Stoll's favorite victim from her for the next three years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I know it's unlikely Annabeth ever went back to play with Cerberus again like she promised but just let me live in the fantasy that all doggies end up happy and that no pet ever suffer.)
> 
> Thank you for all your encouraging reviews! With the recent follows, I just want to say that I am a very sporadic updater. Sometimes I go a month without updating. Sometimes 3 months. Sometimes 6. But I promise I'll do my best to update the 15th and 30/31th of each month!
> 
> Next chapter is Katie's and I want to say that this fic will remain ship free even though I am a huge multishipper. I ship Travis and Connor with basically everyone. Katie, Miranda, Will, Nico, Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Gwen. You name a character and I may 70% of the time ship it (canon be damned.) But I'm going to keep the brothers in platonic relationships only in this fic because 1. I love platonic relationships and 2. I suck at writing romantic relationships. And I found this out when trying to write a Mikayuu Christmas gift fic. My person wanted a fluffy, sweet Christmas scene and I. Totally. Did not. Deliver.


	15. Katie - Bugs

#  **Katie — Bugs**

February

Katie (12) - Travis (12) - Connor (11)

With great power comes great responsibilities…

Great powers such as being a walking, breathing, free-producing fertilizer and great responsibilities such as not scaring her classmates with said powers or disrupting class with said powers or trashing her school with said power.

Katie fails all three in one day. Altogether. In one spectacular kabam.

She always thought she had great control over her powers. Sure, she can't really stop her vegetable garden from growing a new batch a day after she picked them clean and sure she can’t really stop the little pine saplings that grew at her feet when she’s just a tad upset. And _sure_ , when she wakes up in the morning, her room is covered lightly ceiling to ground with ivy.

But it never went any further than that and it never bothered anyone. Their neighbors love them for all the free produce and Miranda is grateful for the pine trees.

And dad never had the ‘talk’ with her like Miranda’s mom does.

Things were alright the way they were.

Then she had to go and uproot her entire middle school by its foundation.

That warrant an action and that action comes in the form of multicolor pamphlets of smiley kids in bright orange shirts. They’re posing underneath a wooden sign that said, “Camp Half Blood.”

And sometimes when Dad thinks she’s asleep in her room and not listening in on his phone conversations, she can hear him speaking with a “Mr. Chiron” ’ about safety and fees and commodities.

When she shows it to Miranda, her long-time, equally as strange, equally as superpowered friend, she oohed and ahhed. And even though Miranda struggled to read the print, there’s a twinkle in her eyes.

“They have a climbing wall that sprouts lava! Lava, Kate! That’s so cool. And there’s horse stables! Horses! And oh! Thes also a crafting building. You love weaving, don’t you?”

She plucks the pamphlet from Miranda’s hands, reviewing the faux-cheerfulness again with a frown.  “I guess. But I don’t want to go. I don’t want to miss school.”

“But.” And Miranda takes the pamphlet back. “You’re smart. You’ll survive a week without classes.”

“Come with me, Randi. I don’t want to be alone.”

Miranda smirks, sides curving in a teasing hint. “And watch you whine about everything just like you did at Science Camp? Sure, why not? But you know Mom won’t let me. She rather I just do normal people thing.”

Katie pouts, biting her cheeks as Miranda stands and stretches, joints popping. She picks up the wooden sword from the ground and twirls it in her hands.   

“I’ll try to talk with her. Meanwhile, you just hang on. If anyone bully you, call me and I’ll beat them up. Okay?” Miranda smiles cheekily, confidently. She points a thumb behind her. “There’s two shadow wolves by Mr. Thompsberry’s house. Do you want to come with me? You can even use your powers to surprise them.”

“You know I can’t control my powers very well,” Katie grumbles, but she follows Miranda anyway.

Sooner than she expected, she’s packing a suitcase and getting into the car. She calls Miranda and say goodbye, then heads into the stables to say goodbye to her horse too.

Dad talks animatedly about the camp, about how she was going to love it there and about the activities she can do and the people she’ll meet and how if she loves it enough, she can go back for the summer.

She tries to appear enthusiastic, nodding along and commenting every once and awhile but the truth is she doesn’t care.

She just wants to get her powers under control so she can go back to living like a normal teenager.

It’s only until they drove onto the ramp leading to the airport that Katie picks up her head and asks her first question. “Where is the camp?”

Dad chuckles, a hand going to scratch the back of his neck. “You know, it’s ah, in the states. In America. Somewhere on the east coast. New York to be exact.”

“New York?!” Katie yells, jumping in her seat. “Why is it in New York?!”

The car swerves sharply to the left, throwing her to the right. Behind them, horns blare and tires shriek.

From the window, she could see a palm tree, still growing, breaking through asphalt. Cars behind them screech to a halt in the face of her impromptu creation.

A heavy silence falls on the car as she sinks into her seat.  

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Katie.” But she couldn’t miss the tremble in Dad’s hands and the silent exhale. She bites her cheeks and lowers her head.

With forced pep in his voice, Dad says, “Hey, chin up. This is why you’re going to the camp, yeah? There’ll be someone waiting for us at the airport. They’ll take us the rest of the way. And while I’m talking Chiron, you can make friends with the kid Chiron will bring along!”

Katie nods dejectedly.

There _was_ someone waiting for them when they got off the airport. A man in a wheelchair and two boys, on the ground playing with a deck of cards.

They’re familiar. Very, _very_ familiar. And when their heads rise and their eyes meet hers, it clicks for them too. Before she can even process why they’re placing a finger on their lip or slashing their throats with a thumb or even mouthing ‘no, no, no, no, **_no_ ** ,’ she says, pointing at them, “You guys were in Sierra’s stall last month.”

And the wheelchaired man’s smiles tighten in strain. An eyebrow rise and the wheels creak as the man rolls back a bit to look over his shoulder.

_“Oh?”_

* * *

 

Which, she guesses, all lead them to now.

To this situation. To this dilemma.

See, the two boys, Travis and Connor, are sons of Hermes.

Sons of a trickster.

And Katie has a very weak heart with a weaker sense of humor that borders on nagging mother according to Miranda. So it didn’t really surprise her when she opened that door to Cabin 11 and something popped right by her ear that she responses by shrieking and hurling her suitcase in a wide swing.

A voice cries, “Connor, watch out!” and there’s a loud thump.

The ground starts to rumble. The walls start to wobble. Everything is vibrating. And as she clings to the door frame, eyes shut tight, she could hear a horrible, horrible creaking.  

The shaking eventually stops and when she opens her eyes, there stands a full grown redwood tree in the center of the cabin, piercing through wooden boards and metal beds alike.

By her feet lies the unsuspecting confetti popper with its green and red and yellow contents scatter all over the floor.

What a fantastic start to her first day.

* * *

 

Most days, Katie is by the strawberry fields with the satyrs. It's quiet. The satyrs leave her alone. And there’s no pranks waiting to scare her soul out of her body. Which is very, very nice.  

It allows her to concentrate in peace. And Katie needs all the peace she can get.

She takes a deep breath and relaxes her shoulders. She holds her hands out, palm out, and takes another breath. Slowly the strawberries stop growing, the stem stop spreading, the plant stops growing, stops moving, until it’s completely still. She holds it there, concentrating and counting the seconds.

  1. 2\. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9—  



An aphid crawls on top of the leaf and she could literally feel her control slipping through her fingertips. _Close my eyes. Take a breath. Try again. Try again. Try again._ And she does exactly that but they continue to grow. Slower though. Maybe if she focuses more then—

“Katie!”

It slips from her hands entirely.

The leaves grow and the stem wraps itself her ankle.

She clenches her fist and stands. 9 seconds. No matter what she does she can never make it to ten.

“Katie! I have this really cool trick to show you!” She hears footsteps running towards her. She didn’t need to turn around to know it’s one of them.

And she turns with her hands on her hips. “If it’s another prank, Travis, I swear I’ll—”

‘Travis’ rolls his eyes. “Connor. And no, Ms. No-Fun-Allowed. It’s not a prank. It’s a magic trick. Here. Pick a card. Any ca— Hey! Where are you going?”

She walks away mid-sentence, mindlessly flexing her hand and saying over her shoulder, “I have to talk to Chiron. Next time.”

It’s not getting better.

* * *

 

Sometimes she tries when it’s night.

Maybe it’ll be easier. Maybe it’s just the sun making it difficult.

They’re quiet as they should be, but when she draws near they wake up and the leaves angles to her. She sinks to her knees and holds out a hand. _Stop._ They slow, but didn’t stop. _Stop._ they’re not stopping. _Why won’t they stop?_ Katie rubs a hand into her eyes. No, no, crying will just make it worse. She needs to keep it together.

She takes another deep breath and exhale. Then another deep breath, exhale, inhale, ex—

“S-S-See, Connor? There’s a ghost over there. I _told_ you there’s a ghost haunting the strawberry fields, but _nooo, ‘_ ghosts don’t exist, ghosts are fairy tales.’”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I see it! Stop shaking my shoulder! Uh, lets go get Lee. He’ll  probably know what to — wait… Katie? Isn’t that Katie?”

And they yell her name, disrupting the silence and her focus. The strawberries grows and grows until they’re red and ripe and probably delicious.

She grits her teeth and stands, twin footfalls coming to her.

* * *

 

“You can’t just wander around by yourself at night, Katie! There’s harpies to worry about. They’ll give us a citation if we don’t behave and we already got too many this month _because somebody has to keep breaking into Apollo’s and Hephaestus’ cabins!_ ”

“Hey. Lee got it coming. He shouldn’t have made fun of us. I needed tools and Beckendorf is and I quote ‘staying in his lane this time,’ and his tools aren’t exactly free to the public”

“You gotta try harder to not get caught.”

“Have you ever got past Beckendorf’s alarms?”

She tunes them out easily enough. There’s just something about them that’s easy to ignore. Her head falls back onto the chair and she flexes her right hand. It’s not getting better. Two weeks have passed and it’s not getting better. Should it be taking this long? Is she doing something wrong? The wedding is in two months. If she doesn’t get under control by then…

“Hey, Kitkat Katie.”

“Don’t call me that,” she says without thought, lowering her head to stare at the brothers. They’re looking at her weird, with their mouth set in a small frown and eyes narrow just a bit.

“Is something wrong?” one asks.

“Nothing’s wrong.” But everything is wrong. And right behind them, to her horror, the wilting flowers quiver and pull upright. Bright, healthy, indistinguishable from their wilted state a mere seconds ago.

* * *

 

And sometimes she gives up for a few hours and dig into her blankets on the top bunk bed in Cabin 11.

She’s only a few feets from where she grew her first tree on camp. Looking down she could see the finished, polished flooring, a contrast to the antiquity of the rest of the cabin. It’s hard to believe it was ever damaged.

The cabin was fixed in just three, incredible days. She didn’t think it was possible but the man who fixed it only smiled and waved his hand flippantly. “Don’t sweat it. It happens all the time with newcomers. This cabin is always getting renovated in weird places,” he said, pointing at the ceiling and the old roof supporters but new shills, the old restroom tiles but new counters, the stained window drapes but new window panes.

It happens all the time.

Yet the only beds being occupied are hers and Travis’s and Connor’s.

Which means the others who were here before already left.

Which means the others who were uncontrollable like her had already left.

She pulls the covers over her head, fully intending on sleeping the afternoon away but then, like fate itself wanted her to suffer, the door flies open and two voices tumble into the cabin, awfully loud and awfully grating.

“I’m never playing kickball with Clarisse again. I think I bruised my ribs when I caught her ball.”

“It’s like a cannon. Why can’t she take it easy on us? Hey, Katie! Are you here? We’re playing volleyball soon and need another player.”

She keeps quiet, listening to them tramp around the cabin. They come closer and closer, stopping at the ladder to her bunk. A second passes before, “We know you’re up there.”

She didn’t say anything. Maybe they’re lying. Maybe they’re —

“The tulips are growing, so we know you’re up there. Come on. Volleyball is waiting for us.”

Reluctantly, Katie rises and peeks down. One of them is holding a pot and true to their words, the tulips are growing, shifting through the life cycle faster than it should be. Katie rolls back onto her bed.

“I don’t want to.”

“Come on _,_ Katie. We left you alone for three weeks now, but you have to participate in _some_ camp activities.”

“You didn’t leave me alone for —”

“Pranks don’t count. They’re not camp stuff.”

“Everybody is waiting. Getting some exercise is good.”

She draws her blankets under her chin and curls in. “No.”

“Playing volleyball will help you stay alert! You need to be alert once you leave camp.”

 _Once you leave camp_ … She curls in farther and shuts her eyes. “No.”

“Don’t be such a debbie-downer. And just come play. Just one game.”

“I said _no!_ ”

And she feels something surge through her whole body, a jolt of electricity. The ground rumbles, shakes and something is creaking. Something is tearing. Before she could even throw the covers off, she hears screaming.

She bolts straight up and scoots towards the ladder, peeking down from the side and paling at what she sees. Vines, with stems as wide as her wrists, are wrapped around the Travis’ and Connor’s ankles. And by the time she climb down the ladder, the tendrils are snaked around their hips and reaching higher still. She could see them tightening and tightening and tightening. If they reach the neck… then… they could… they could…

Katie swallows and walks up to them, but the vines move faster up and she backs away. Travis, Connor, she still can’t tell them apart but one of them notices and tries to back away too, except his feet is planted and it did nothing but draws panic up in him and in her.

The other raises his head to her and waves. He waves like he’s not minutes away from being strangled by a plant. “Katie. Hey, look, sorry for not taking no for an answer. My bad. Definitely won’t happen again until I get some pruners on me. Can you call these off us?”

Call them off? _Call them off?_ _When she can’t even control them in the first place? When her power never directly attacked people before? Call them off?_

She tries to say as much, but everything comes out jumbled and she only sees the vines that continue to climb and climb and climb.

“Katie,” the one who tried to back away first said, a wavering smile on his face. “It’s going to be alright. Calm down first. You panicking just makes it grow faster. Breathe, count to ten, breathe again then try.”   

He tries to hide it, tries to mask that growing hysteria in his voice and panic in his eyes, tries to remain calm for her sake, but it just made her panic all the more. She could see it. It’s too tight. The tendrils are still snaking up, curling around thighs and waists and arms. If they get to the neck and squeeze there.

_No, no, no, no no no nononononono_

“Katie, I don’t want to put pressure on you, but me and Connor are gonna die if you don’t call them off,” the second chuckles, still trying and still failing to rip the vines off.

“I— I— I’m trying. It’s not working. I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t cry. Oh gods, please don’t cry. I got this.” And Connor brandishes a pocket knife. She didn’t even notice he was shifting around in his pocket in the midst of her panicking.

The pocket knife is small and when Connor somehow unhooked the blade, Katie could see its made of gold and is shining. But it’s small and the vines are thicker than her wrists. What could it possibly—

Connor stabs it into Travis and Katie screams.

He pushes down and she turns away, bile rising at the thought of seeing blood and muscles and bone.

But Travis wasn’t screaming in pain or anything and when Katie peeks behind her hands, Travis is actually snickering. _Snickering._ “Pffft, did you see that Connor?”

There’s no blood like she expected. No muscles. No bone. Only a trail of cut vines.

“What— how— I—”

“Celestial bronze don’t hurt mortals,” Travis says, taking the knife from Connor’s hand and cutting through his bindings, slicing through the vines like they’re butter. In mere seconds, they were free. But new vines wrap themselves around their ankles. Travis stomps his feet, motioning with his head to her ladder. Connor seems to get what he’s saying and he drags her by the arm to her bed, following up last after them.

The vines don’t follow them up, but Katie watches them crawl through the rest of the floors, through the walls, to the ceiling, threading through boards and winding around nightstands.

Beside her, there’s a cough.

She didn’t dare look at them, couldn’t even find the words to say. Sorry isn’t enough. I don’t have control isn’t enough. I didn’t mean to isn’t enough. Her eyes burn and she shoves the heel of her hand against them. Crying now will make everything worse, but her eyes didn’t seem to want to listen like her stupid powers and she could feel a tear snakes down her cheek.

Travis claps his hands. “Well, that was a wonderful bonding moment. How about we bond some more through volleyball?”

“Unless you have some personal grudge against volleyball,” Connor adds, “Then we can play poker. ”

There’s a lump in her throat. Why do they sound so calm?

“Katie?”

There’s no fear in their voice. They’re not scared. Why? _Why_?

“Say something. Are you hurt?”

Her breath hitches and again, the walls start to rumble.

“Oh my shit, she’s crying. Travis, what do we do?”

“I-I don’t know! What do we do? Someone call Lee or Chiron! Wait, Connor, you have drachmas on you, right? Call Annabeth. Where is she staying again? New York? Connecticut? Europe? AHHHH, why didn’t she tell us before she ditched us?”

She buries her head into her knees.

Why aren’t you mad?

Why don’t you hate me?

* * *

 

In the end, someone came to investigate the rumblings and found the cabin swathed from top to bottom in vines. Chiron told them it might take a while to get them free and to ‘sit tight.’ Outside, someone is wowing, saying they never saw a child of Demeter do something like this.

… whatever Demeter means.

The three of them sit in the middle of the bed, one has his leg dangling off the side and the other sits crossed legged while she has her legs drawn up to her chest. They’re playing a card game. Egyptian something. They asked if she wanted to play but she shook her head.

She was never that great at card game anyway and once the game started, it looks like they’re going way too fast for her to win anyway. She hugs her knees closer to her.

The third game in, they finally talk.

“So.” A card is laid down. “Do you want to tell us what’s been bothering you?”

Another card is flip, followed by another flip and another flip. Slap.  “Unless you don’t want to tell us. That’s totally fine too.”

Flip. Flip. Slap. “It’s… my dad.” Flip. “He’s getting remarried.” Flip. Flip. Flip. Slap. “The wedding is in two months.”

The flipping stops as they share a look. A conversation passes between them that she didn’t understand. “Do you not like who your dad is marrying or—”

“No, I like them. Him,” she corrects herself, nearly forgetting the divorce from last year. Miranda would never let her live it down if she messes it up in front of her. Especially since she kinda marked the moment by growing a garden of roses when the Gardiner’s visted them to tell them the news. The face on Mrs. Gardiner’s face was great. “I can’t attend unless I have my powers under control.”

“Because you’ll cry?” The one sitting crossed-legged hisses quietly, _Travis!_

But she nods miserably. “Because I’ll cry.” _And probably make the wedding into something from a horror movie._

Connor tilts his head to the side and edges closer to her. “Have you told Chiron?”

“Yeah, but every suggestion he gives doesn’t work.” _Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the problem._

Travis hums and taps his chin. “We know someone who sorta has the same power as you. She’s not as dangerous because all she can make are these flimsy pieces of ivy, but hers is just as annoying as yours. Beckendorf always needed to come by and help snip them off. Maybe she can help. But, ah, she’s attending school in Maine. I’m not sure if she’s willing to come down here.”

Connor yawns and falls onto his back. “I heard she hates her middle school. She’ll probably say, say, say…”

Katie raises her head to look questionably at Connor, Travis doing the same. He’s rigid, eyes squinting and nose wrinkling. “Hey, Katie,” he starts slowly, quietly. “Those vines you grew, do they attract bugs?”

And she swallows hard as she reluctantly says, “They attract beetles, but as long as we get rid of the vines fast enough then—”

“Holy f—” “Swear Jar.”

In a burst of speed that Katie didn’t know humans were capable of, Connor launches himself to the wall, banging them like a demon. “HEY, WHO'S OUT THERE? LEE? CHIRON? BECKENDORF? PLEASE, CUT FASTER. CUT FASTER!”

Katie closes her eyes as Travis cackles, wishing more than ever that she had the power to retract too.

“AGH. IT’S EVERYWHERE. OH, GODS. ITS UNSALVAGEABLE. GIVE ME THE GASOLINE. I’M BURNING OUR CABIN DOWN.”

“Connor, you’re overreacting. Oh! Is that a bug I see on your arm?”

Connor’s wails could rival a volcano eruption. Travis’s laughs nearly challenging that. Outside, someone asks if they’re alright.

“Just kidding.”

Katie stares blankly as Connor tackles Travis, both of them crashing to the ground. Through the screaming, the laughing, the “you’re dead to me, you’re dead to me, Travis,” the “wait, wait, wait, Connor! The vines! The vines are still growing! We’re going to be strangled!” and the “Connor, please don’t commit murder,” there’s a drumming in her head. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel her power boiling, itching to get out.

* * *

 

Turns out the girl was more than happy to come to help her. In fact, the very next morning when Katie was brushing her teeth, a body tackles her from behind. Full on tackle as in hands are wrapping around her waist and she’s being lifted off the floor. Katie screams and beats her fist on the intruder’s back. She’s drop back onto the floor, stumbling back until her back hits the wall. There’s the familiar sound of creaking.

Within moments, her attacker’s arms are wrap taut to their body, a girl no older than her with short, black hair and a pair of green eyes that flashes with something dangerous.

“W-W-Who are you?” Katie stammers, clutching her chest.

Outside, someone groans. “Not again. Hurry, someone get pruners! And keep Connor away from his cabin!”

The girl smiles and struggles for a bit, awe on her face. “Wow, they weren’t lying. You’re really powerful. They’re not giving. Hey, Katie, would you mind letting me go now?”

“I…” Little ivies crawl up from the walls to the girl. “I don’t know how,” Katie mutters. There are two beads hanging from her neck. A camper then…  

The girl laughs and struggles some more. “Okay, we’ll start there. My name is Veronica and I am going to be your mentor. Please take a while to learn so I don’t have to go back to school ya?”

Veronica’s lessons aren’t really so much about control but draining her power reservoirs to a point she’s able to turn on and off the growing. Then supposedly she works her control up from there. It sounds dubious, but it works. It really, really work and she never felt such control. Except, the lessons are… kind of exhausting. Exhausting to the point where after she’s done practicing, the most she can do is drag herself back to the cabins and to her bed. Then her power reservoir will recharge back up to full capacity and she has to release it all again.

The forest is kind of becoming the Amazon jungles…

Veronica tells her this method is infallible. That eventually she will get a hold of her power and can live like any other demigods (“And you’ll be able to kick anybody butts too.” Veronica adds with stars in her eyes).

Katie thinks she would like it a lot more if it didn’t make her muscles ache everywhere.

Connor reminds her it’s for her fathers. Katie wishes that reminder gives her the strength Connor seems to think it does.

Travis reminds her that if she doesn’t get better control, he’ll prank her.

It isn’t a great motivator until Travis dyes her hair green and snaps a picture to email back to her family.

Now it’s a great motivator and Katie has every intention of getting back on the stupid Stolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti into the air* I updated!! Sorry for being so behind on my updates. Normally I procrastinate by writing. But I can’t procrastinate this quarter. I do and I’ll seriously fall behind on my classes. I'm serious. I'm averaging 2 hours sleep a night on weekdays. It also didn’t help I didn’t know how to write Katie. I’m going to apologize in advance if I don’t update until December.
> 
> As always thank you so much to the commenters and kudo-ers and subscribers! I really appreciate you guys!

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time doing something like this where there's no plot and just one shot after one shot. But I always wanted to do something like this and since the Stoll brothers are my favorite characters, I decided why not. Let's do it! 
> 
> I also have a [tumblr!](http://strikeanew.tumblr.com/) It's called Strikeanew and it's a mess of all my fandom love. If you ever want someone to talk/rant/bother, I am always on there...procrastinating when I should be studying or writing.


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